


Cucciolo

by SteadyLittleSoldier



Series: Cucciolo [1]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Affairs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys Kissing, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Neighbors, Pet, Secrets, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-07-03 21:50:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 27,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15827619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteadyLittleSoldier/pseuds/SteadyLittleSoldier
Summary: The skinny Italian boy living across from him keeps calling Oliver by his name and disappearing before he can catch him.





	1. Oliver

Climbing the stairs of this dingy building, he may seem like a defeated man to watching eyes, but Oliver, though his steps are tired, is quite looking forward to being alone and to be able to relax after a full day of students and colleagues fussing around him. Although he curses the stairs because an elevator would have taken him up faster, he sighs in relief when he finally gets on the third floor.

 

“Oliver, get back here!”

 

He hears a deep voice shout, angry and impatient, which pulls him out of his thoughts of having a cold beer on the balcony, watching the sunset. He jerks his head up as his mouth falls open. A man - no, a boy - with a bush of curly hair and porcelain skin stands ten feet before him, opening the door of his flat, his eyes big in shock as he spares Oliver a glance before rushing past him. Oliver watches in surprise as the skinny boy bounces down the stairs.

It is the Italian boy who has moved into the empty flat opposite his last month. Oliver does not know anything apart from what his landlord has told him. He doesn’t even know his name. How the boy came to know his name is a total mystery to him. 

Oliver’s tired mind cannot grasp what has just happened. He waits for a minute or two for the boy to come back, but when he doesn’t, Oliver gives up and goes to his flat as though lured by the cold beer and the sun setting behind New York City. 

 

Then it happens again. This time he is leaving for his morning class and he hears it echoing through the stairway. 

 

“Oliver... Oliver! Veini qua!”

 

Oliver frowns, but looking back up, sees no one. He waits again for a few seconds before checking his watch and leaving as he doesn’t want to miss the train. He resolves to face the boy if he calls him again next time and disappears.

He sees the boy again one day when he is leaving his apartment for work, but he catches him in an awkward situation. A girl is kissing the boy goodbye who is very drowsy, his pajama bottoms hanging low on his lithe waist, his hair is a mess and eyes puffy with sleep. They stand in the doorway; the boy topless, his hands on the doorframe, the girl kissing him with all the dedication in the world while framing his face with her hands tenderly. Oliver slips past before they separate and hears a soft ‘ciao’ as he descends the stairs.

 

The next time it happens, Oliver is in the shower. The sound is muted but Oliver can tell the boy sounds worried. This time, he calls just his name, stretching the last syllable as though he is looking for him. Oliver hops out of the showers and puts his towel around his waist. But by the time he opens his door to the hallway, dripping water everywhere, the boy is nowhere to be seen.

 

When it happens again the following week, Oliver is ready. He is in his living room on a Saturday when he hears his name being called. He doesn’t miss a second and opens his door to find the boy at the top of the staircase about to descend. 

 

“What’s your problem?” Oliver says.

 

The boy turns and Oliver is met with an anxious face, a kicked puppy expression on his face. His cupid bow lips are slightly ajar while his brows are furrowed and slightly raised in worry. 

 

“Sorry, have you seen my dog?” says the boy.

 

“Your dog?”

 

“Yeah, it’s a tiny black pug with blue eyes.”

 

He has a clear New York accent for an Italian guy. Oliver shakes his head, he has never seen a dog in this building, let alone a puppy. “Have you searched your apartment properly? Maybe it’s hiding in the corner somewhere.”

 

“Yes, I have. But I must have left the door open, he has escaped a few times before. He’s new and I don’t think he likes it here.”

 

_ Or maybe you are unable to take good care of your pet _ \- Oliver wants to say but he doesn’t want to distress the already miserable looking guy.

 

“Does he respond to your call?”

 

“Sometimes. He hasn’t warmed up to me yet.”

 

“Well, call him then. Try the terrace too.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Oliver nods and gets back inside before he hears it again.

 

“Oliver…”

 

Oliver opens the door again. “What?”

 

The boy, who is climbing the stairs to the terrace now, turns his head around. “What?”

 

“What’d you called me for?” Oliver frowns.

 

“I didn’t call you.”

 

“Yes, you did.”

 

“Dude, I don’t even know your name.”

 

“You said ‘Oliver’.”

 

“Yes, that’s my dog’s name.”

 

Oliver opens his mouth and closes it again. Looking back, it was stupid of him to not have come to this conclusion, he thinks. He chuckles and it’s the boy’s turn to frown. Oliver walks to him and extends his hand. “My name is Oliver. Hi.”

 

The frown on the boy’s face slowly disappears to be replaced with amusement. “Oh God, really?!” He takes his hand, “That’s so crazy. I’m Elio.”

 

“Isn’t it? Come on, let me help you find my namesake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I'm writing because I can't write heavy stuff right now. Not edited. Apologies for any mistakes or typos. I do have plans for this but not sure if I'm gonna post more. But I might.... idk  
> Hope you enjoyed this!


	2. Tea

They find Oliver - the puppy - behind the terrace door, curled up in the shade. Elio picks him up gingerly. “What are you doing here, buddy?” he whispers to the dog while scratching his tiny head who struggles for a bit before settling in Elio’s arms. 

 

“Thank you so much,” says Elio when they get down on their floor.

 

Oliver shakes his head, smiling. “Take better care of your pet, Elio.”

 

“I know, I know. It’s… this is all just so new to me.” Before Oliver can ask why, he continues hesitantly, “Do you- would you like a cup of coffee or something?”

  
  
  


Elio serves tea because it’s past noon and Oliver doesn’t want to fuck up his sleep schedule, but also, because Elio’s tea cabinet is insane. Elio has all sorts of tea, black, ginger, jasmine, basil - you name it.

 

“Are you some sort of tea guru?” Oliver jokes.

 

“I uh- no.” Elio chuckles, which, Oliver just notices, is a sweet sound. “I like tea.” He shrugs his shoulders. “No, hold one, that’s an understatement. I _ love  _ tea. It reminds me of home.”

 

“Italy?”

 

Elio nods and smiles a sad smile.

 

“Do you miss your family?”

 

“Very much. It’s the first time I’ve been away from them for so long. That’s why I got Oliver,” says Elio and laughs, still getting used to having two Olivers in his apartment.

 

“You can Skype.”

“I do. But it’s not the same.” Elio goes to pick the puppy up from his cage where he was meant to be kept temporarily and walks back to Oliver to the kitchen. “But this guy won’t love me back,” says Elio, taking in a feigned hurt voice while rubbing his nose on the puppy’s skin.

 

Oliver cocks his head, smiling. “Maybe you don’t love him yet.”

 

Elio laughs. “Get outta here!”

 

“No, I’m serious. Take care of him. Get him to trust you. Let him sleep on your bed. Let him come to you. He’s probably cooped up in here, take him for walks. He probably misses his friends from his old place. Stop using him for your homesickness and spend time with him because you  _ want _ to spend time with him.”

 

Elio listens quietly and for a moment Oliver thinks he has offended him. But then he nods sagely and hums. “You’re right.”

  
  


There are blank spaces here and there in Elio’s apartment, some things are still in boxes. But the one thing that is properly placed and tidy, and is basically standing out, is his bookshelf. Oliver takes his cup and walks towards it. The shelf is stacked with books in English, French and Italian, and they range from highbrow literature to comic books. Oliver himself is not unfamiliar with many of them, he has read his fair share of Dante and Homer, but he is already impressed with his young neighbor.

 

“That’s another thing I miss about home,” Elio interrupts, padding towards him. 

 

“You mean you have  _ more _ books at home?”

 

Elio nods. “Mine and also my parents’.”

 

“I’m guessing they are in academia?”

 

Elio smiles and cocks his head. “Well done, Sherlock Holmes. You got that just from my taste in literature?”

 

“So I’m right?”

 

“Yes, my papa’s a professor. Mom is a translator.”

 

“And what are you studying here?”

 

Elio chuckles. “Pretty sure you’ve already guessed.”

 

“Literature.”

 

“I heard you’re a professor too.”

 

“I am. Of philosophy.”

 

“Do give me a lecture or two sometimes.”

 

Oliver sees what is happening but he doesn’t want to admit it. Shaking his head, he smiles and looks down. “I should go. I have to make a few calls. Don’t lose Oliver again.”

 

And he doesn’t. Elio is careful now and, with of flicker of newfound happiness in his mind, he obeys Oliver’s instructions. He runs into him often when Oliver is going out to run in the morning and he is taking his puppy out on a walk. For a couple of days, they see each other on their way out. After that, Elio plucks up the courage and asks if he can go walk his puppy where Oliver runs. With a nonchalant shrug, Oliver doesn’t hesitate for a second, and Elio watches as he puts his headphones on and starts running. Elio wonders what kind of music he likes, he watches his muscles ripple as he runs almost without effort, his blonde hair catching the sun as the longer strands fly to the rhythm of his feet - he wants to touch it, tuck it behind his ear or ruffle it. But Elio is careful not to say it all out loud and smiles to himself.

 

Oliver prides himself on being observant, and Elio’s almost childish endeavor is not lost on him. He knows he should be the grown up in this situation, should make it clear where they stand. But as though sleepwalking, he allows himself to indulge. He allows himself to smile and laugh freely with Elio. And when he is invited to Elio’s apartment for tea and often breakfast, he allows himself to enjoy it, and he invites Elio over and makes omelet and bacon for the two of them and lets it become a routine. Because he likes spending those blissful morning hours with Elio, likes playing with Oliver, likes how Elio looks at him and likes how his pale skin is sometimes speckled with a pinkish hue when he smiles at him.

  
  
  



	3. Big O

“We have to do something about this situation.”

 

Oliver looks up from his phone at Elio who is sat on the opposite end of the couch, a glass of lemonade in hand, staring and nodding sagely, with furrowed brows, at his dog.

 

“What situation?” 

Oliver looks back down when his phone dings.

 

 

Oliver casts a side glance at Elio. It’s Saturday and Elio has been hanging around in his apartment, with Oliver's eyes following him, after they've come back from their morning routine. And while Oliver has needed a shower after, sweaty and smelly from running, Elio was glowing in the spring sun with a thin layer of perspiration that gave him an angelic aura. Elio didn’t run. He always had a book with him. With one hand on the leash, he let his puppy walk while he leisurely walked behind him. And after a while he would sit under a tree on a patch of grass in the park, letting the puppy walk and run around a bit, and he would read and wait for Oliver to finish his jogging.

Oliver would ditch his friends any day for this.

 

 

 _A little white lie never hurt anyone_ \- Oliver thinks.

 

“Having two Olivers living on the same floor,” says Elio.

 

“Why do you sound like you are about to sentence one of us to death?”

 

Elio slowly turns his head toward him, and deepening his voice, he says with a straight face, “Don’t think I would hesitate for a second before choosing to save him,” he points at the puppy playing with a toy in front of the tv, “over you when it becomes necessary to eliminate an Oliver.”

 

Oliver narrows his eyes threateningly. Moments pass as they challenge each other, seeing who will crack first before Elio tightens his lips and Oliver bursts out laughing.

 

“All this time I was looking for him, you thought I was some kind of a stalker calling your name. It’s going to be a problem if we are to be neighbors. You should officially change your name because I’m not changing his,” says Elio.

 

“What do you think I should name myself?”

 

“I don’t know. Fabio? Roberto? Stefano? Angelo?”

 

“I’m not Italian.”

 

“But they all end with ‘O’, so that’s your consolation.”

 

“Clever.”

 

“So when are you getting baptized again?”

 

“I’m Jew though.”

 

The impish smile on Elio’s face is replaced with one of delight and surprise. “You are?”

 

Oliver nods. “My family is.”

 

Elio smiles brighter. “Mine too.”

 

“Why’d you run on Sabbath?”

 

Elio laughs and pours that sweet sound in the air. “How about I call you Big O?”

 

“That sounds like some drug dealer’s name.”

 

Elio shrugs. “I don’t what you do in your off hours.”

 

“You do know I’m a professor, right?”

 

“Like professors can’t do drugs.”

 

Oliver narrows his eyes comically again. “Getting off the point here.”

 

“Okay, Big O.” Elio laughs to himself as he walks to the kitchen to put the glass in the sink, leaving Oliver smiling after him.

 

“Want lunch?”

 

“Depends on what you’re making,” says Elio, crossing his arms and leaning against the kitchen isle.

 

“Spaghetti?” Oliver pads over to him.

 

“I can’t let you make spaghetti in my presence.” 

 

“You’re half-American, so shut up and wipe that smirk off your face,” says Oliver, shoving him away from the isle so he can get to the stove. “I’m a  _ great _ cook.”

 

*

 

“So it’s just you and your parents?”

 

Elio nods with spaghetti dangling off his mouth. “What about you?” he says after gulping it down. 

 

“I have an older sister.”

 

“Still back home?”

 

Oliver nods. “New England.”

 

“Don’t you miss them? And home?”

 

Oliver hums, and before Elio can question him further, he says, “Admit it, Perlman, you love my spaghetti.” 

 

Elio cocks his head and smiles. “I’m impressed. But also, I’m really hungry so I can’t really tell.”

 

“You little…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm craving spaghetti


	4. Miss You

It’s the nights that Elio perhaps hates the most. The mattress is just not right! He can hear the cars outside sometimes. What he wants to hear instead is his father going to the toilet in the middle of the night or getting water out of the fridge, his mother checking on him sometimes - a habit that never went away, and the occasional howl of a dog somewhere. He can almost hear the emptiness in the air around him at night.

Back home in Milan, he would cherish the night. After dinner, he would be pleasantly drunk on amazing food and often wine, and would climb the stairs to his bedroom, light a cigarette sometimes, write, or read a few pages of a book, and then the cicadas would lull him to sleep. But sleep doesn’t come so easily in New York. He stares out of the window. He is terribly homesick. He is lonely.

He is not one to make friends so easily. People come to talk to him, but more often than not, he fails to continue. He is too shy to start a conversation, and sometimes too bored to.

Oliver, his puppy, helps. Tending to him passes the time and occupies a large part of his brain. He told his parents about him after he brought him home. “Oh Elio…” his mother went. They can always see through his veil. “Come home if you want, Elio. Or don’t, if you want to learn to love your new life. But don’t ever feel that there is no option,” his father said. Elio does want to love New York and he is patient.    
Being with Oliver, his neighbor, is easy and a blessing. He likes to think he is his first friend in the States. The emptiness in Elio’s apartment seems to fill up bit by bit because Oliver is just a knock on the door away. He is smart and mature in a way that borders on intimidating. He catches Elio’s wit and challenges back which Elio admires. A match, he would say, to some extent - except Oliver is _ gorgeous _ . Elio finds his gaze following the bounce of his feet as he runs in the park. He brings a book to hide behind so he can watch Oliver glow in the sweet morning light and run, his muscles tightening and loosening, his observant piercing eyes often catching Elio in the act. He gets up early in the morning and waits to hear the sound of Oliver’s door opening and flashes him the brightest smile. His puppy jumps on Oliver and he carries him down, helps Elio put the leash on him.

 

This morning though, Elio cannot find the strength to get out of his bed. Oliver is not home. He is out of town for a seminar. Puppy Oliver is awake and is running around his bed trying to get up and lick Elio’s face into making him yield and take him to the park. But Elio has only now realized that his primary reason for taking his puppy out every morning is so he can spend time with Oliver which came to him as a shock. Now that Oliver won’t be there today, Elio has zero enthusiasm to go out.  
He often wonders if he is being a bother, as last week he has spent a whole day in Oliver's apartment until his parents texted him that they wanted to Skype with him. Poor guy was probably too polite to ask him to leave - Elio thinks. He will be careful not to repeat something like that. 

He picks the puppy up, holds him above his head. “Do you miss Big O too?”

Puppy Oliver struggles and Elio lets him down. He doesn’t even have Oliver’s number, he usually knocks at his door whenever he needs to. He goes to his Instagram profile that he has started following his second week here, opens message. He starts to type.

 

_ Hi. Gonna miss you at the park today. _

 

He stares at the typed message and furrows his brows. “Stupido,” he says out loud and erases the whole thing. He types again.

 

_ Hi. Oliver misses his Big O. Too lazy to go to the park without you. _

 

He erases it again.

 

_ Hi. Hope you’re having a good time. _

 

He checks his profile, but Oliver doesn’t post very often, there are no posts or stories from his trip. By then puppy Oliver has been running and getting tangled in his sheets with impatience. “I  _ have _ to take you, don’t I?”

He scrolls through his accounts for a while before he gets a notification from Facebook that one of his friends is nearby. It’s Marzia. A girl from his mandatory anthropology class. A girl who is from France and somehow reminds him of home. A girl who he has already spent a night with. That’s someone whose number he does have. He calls her. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am sorry...


	5. Texts

Marzia is French through and through, and Elio is glad to have someone to talk to in French in this concrete jungle. Besides spending every summer in a little town in the Italian countryside, Elio has spent many holidays in France as his mother has relatives there and his father is simply in love with everything  _français_ , which includes his mother. So there is a sense of home that surrounds Marzia, and because Elio is so homesick, he clings onto it.   
She is waiting for him in a cafe around the corner from his building. Her face lights up when she sees him entering the cafe with the puppy in his arms. The last time Marzia was in his apartment and was first introduced to puppy Oliver, she had spent half the time playing with him.   
After getting coffee and breakfast, Elio asks her if she wants to join him and the puppy in the park. Marzia adores the little one and it’s almost as easy being with her as it is with Oliver, although Elio misses watching him run from afar. Misses watching Oliver splashing water on his face after his run, misses watching the droplets sliding down his long throat and disappearing behind his shirt, misses wondering what they would look like gliding down his chest. He takes out his phone to check if he has replied. And he has.

 

_ I am. Hope Oliver is not missing me too much though. _ _  
_ _ Also, give me your phone number. _

 

“Someone special?” says Marzia in French when she finds Elio smiling to himself.

“Uh, no. Just my neighbor,” he says, looking down at his phone.

 

_ Haha he actually does.  _ _  
_ _ I’m surprised you even have your notification from Instagram on. _

 

Then he adds his phone number to the message. 

Minutes later, his phone buzzes with an incoming text. _  
_

 

__

 

Elio smiles and saves his number.

 

 

Elio chuckles out loud before he can stop himself. They are sat on a patch of grass, his usual spot, and watching Oliver nibbling at Marzia's dress.

"So your neighbor is someone special," says Marzia teasingly.

Elio shakes his head.

"Why are you texting your neighbor then? Don't you see her every day?"

"It's a he. And he's out of town. We usually come to the park together so he just wanted to see Oliver."

"What's his name?"

"Oliver."

"No, I mean your neighbor's name."

"It's _Oliver_."

Marzia stares at him for a moment disbelievingly. "It's a sign from the universe."

Elio laughs and shakes his head again. "Yeah, he's become a very good friend."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation between Marzia and Elio is in French that I wrote in English just to make it easier for both parties.


	6. Cold

Oliver hovers to see if he will run into Elio, to see if he can hear the puppy’s squeaky barks. But it is late and he finishes his beer.

Skipping the last day of the seminar, he has come home earlier than originally planned, making an excuse of having a very important class that he had to take on Monday. It was late into the night that he, sighing, entered his apartment, got a cold beer from his fridge, and loosening the top button of his shirt, went to the balcony.

He can see Elio’s balcony from his; Oliver can see that the lights of his bedroom are off, which is not surprising seeing as he most likely has morning classes tomorrow, yet Oliver is a little disappointed.

He puts the empty bottle away and leans forward on the railing, resting his elbows on it. The wind stings his cheek; it is getting colder. Closing his eyes, he contemplates about the lectures he has to give tomorrow, about how badly he needs a vacation, about Vanessa, which is where he stops and backtracks to thinking about the things that cheer him up. This is his meditation, his way of finding sanity after a hectic day, of categorizing and remembering everything that happens to him. He thinks about Oliver, which puts a smile on his face. He loves the little puppy and has missed him. For a brief moment, he considers getting a puppy of his own, or a cat, which then leads him to think about his neighbor. And when exhaustion creeps in on him, he mutters to himself, “tomorrow,” and takes a shower before retiring to bed.

 

He waits for him for ten minutes the next morning. Elio is always the one waiting for him, he always opens the door exactly when Oliver is leaving his apartment. But this morning, he doesn’t come out. Oliver almost decides to knock, but then resists thinking maybe he wanted a few more hours of sleep, it’s not that he jogs anyway, or maybe he isn’t even home.

Oliver runs alone that day before getting back and getting ready for work. It’s when he is checking his shoelaces before descending the stairs that he hears it. A girl giggling, followed by the sweet hollow sound of Elio’s laughter. Without paying it much attention, he starts going down.

 

“Oliver, you’re back?” he hears Elio saying excitedly as soon as he opens his door and sees Oliver going down the stairs.

 Oliver turns around and finds Elio grinning at him. “Yeah,” he says smiling up.

 A girl with dark hair emerges from behind Elio. “Hello,” she says to Oliver with a thick French accent, offering him a polite smile.

 “Oliver, this is Marzia. Marzia, this is Oliver,” says Elio.

 “Hey.”

 “Did you go jogging today?” says Elio.

 “You know I never miss.”

 Elio opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it and hides his disappointment with a tight smile. “Thought you were supposed to be back tonight.”

 “I was, but I have an important class this morning, which I’m gonna be late for,” he repeats the lie. “So I gotta run. Later.”

 Elio and Marzia follow him down the stairs, Elio’s arm over her delicate shoulder as they walk and talk in fast and fluent French. Once they are out of the main gate, they go their separate ways without bidding adieu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> raise your hand if you hate short chapters :I


	7. Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a slightly longer chapter...

Plain and simple, Elio feels ignored. He has to prove that he deserves the attention that he gets from Oliver, or that he  _ used to _ get from him. He can play hard to get too. 

He wonders what might have happened during the weekend spent out of town to make Oliver so stiff. He is not his friendly self anymore. Has he found someone more interesting? Or is he simply bored of Elio? Tired of seeing the same old face. He is not the shiny toy anymore. 

Elio resolves to change that. He won’t be shoving his face through the crack of Oliver’s door anymore. If Oliver still wants to be friends, he has to come to him. Elio doesn’t want to think about what will happen if Oliver doesn’t want him around anymore.

Or is he the type who doesn’t mind if you tag along or not because he has more important things to think about? Elio doesn’t want to believe that Oliver is that shallow to lose friends and not give a damn about it.

Elio is going to wait. He will not rush out of the door the second he hears Oliver’s door opening. He is going to wait and see if Oliver knocks or waits for him. Being late is the universal sign of not caring enough. He is going to show Oliver that his world doesn’t revolve around him, that going to the park with him every morning doesn’t mean anything, that it is just routine.

Oliver the puppy, is hyped up and jumping up and down, waiting for Elio to open the door. “Patience, little one,” Elio whispers to him, scratching his head as he spins round and round tangling the leash. Elio waits. His first lecture doesn’t start until ten, he has time. And by now he has Oliver’s routine memorized as well. But no matter when he is supposed to be at the university, Oliver is always out of the door exactly at six.

Elio’s heart gives a thump as he hears Oliver’s door open. He stands up and presses his ear to his door, the puppy following him. He waits, holding his breath, he waits for the knock that he is sure will come. He hears Oliver lock the door behind him. And for a minute, there is no sound. Then he hears the telltale sound of Oliver’s footfalls on the stairs. His heart shatters; Oliver doesn’t wait for him like he waits for Oliver  _ every _ morning.

 

This happens day after day. Every morning Elio listens for the knock he hopes will come, and every morning he is disappointed. One morning when Oliver once again leaves without him, he loses all hope. His eyes burning with tears of anger, he throws the end of the leash that he was clutching in his hand and scrambles to his bed to sulk, his face, hot with rage and embarrassment, buried in his pillow; the poor puppy looking up at him. Is he that boring? That clingy that Oliver is tired of him already? 

 

He doesn’t take his puppy out every day now. The days that he does take him out, he is careful not to take Oliver’s route.

 

Marzia keeps getting invited back. She is someone who  _ wants _ to spend time with Elio, and Elio appreciates that; it boosts the self-respect that he loses every morning when he hears Oliver leaving without him. He feels pathetic that Oliver ignoring him even bothers him at all. It makes him feels unimportant and insignificant. He relishes in Marzia’s presence. His apartment seems less empty with her in it. By now Elio has gotten everything out of the boxes and put them in their right places though he was too lazy and homesick to gather the energy to do it at first. But he has to admit, part of the reason behind him being organized was an unconscious endeavor to impress Oliver, to not make him think that he was one of the untidy, disorganized college students who doesn’t have his life under control. He didn’t want to accidentally send the message that what he was doing was not intentional, that he was just letting things happen. But looking back, it didn’t help at all. 

At least Marzia appreciates it. Elio loves to have someone to share dinner with. They sit on the floor in front of the tv and eat out of takeout boxes. And before the movie that has been playing on the tv is over, they find their limbs tangled as they grind against each other.

The mornings after, feigning nonchalance, he makes sure to display the intimacy between them through small touches as they descend the stairs after Oliver who looks up to offer a tight smile but no ‘good morning’ or ‘later’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you believe Marzia deserves better, get behind me.  
> #TeamMarzia


	8. Phone Calls

It’s Friday night. The people that he hangs around with - he can’t quite call them friends yet - invited him to go get drinks and were shocked to find out that Elio doesn’t have a fake ID yet. They are Marzia’s friends. She is easy to be around and is - it now seems - the only friend Elio has made so far. Not that he wants to go drinking with a bunch of teenagers anyway and watch them gulp down alcohol and pass out.

He studies for his upcoming test for a while, and when the golden light of the sinking sun tumbles over the white sheets of his notebook, he looks up and almost floats to his balcony. Oliver the puppy follows behind. Elio sits down on the floor to bask in the heavenly light. For a while, he thinks about nothing and feels the pang of that eternal sadness that had perhaps moved Arnold centuries ago.

Before the light is totally gone, his hears the annoying sound of an incoming call on Skype. He huffs and gets up to get his phone from where it is charging. It’s his parents which instantly puts a smile on his face. He receives the call and goes back to sit on the balcony. He is greeted with smiling faces and cheery ‘Eliooooo’s. His eyes water without permission, he smiles through it.

 

“Aw, tesoro..." comes his mother’s sweet voice.

 

“How are you?” he says in Italian while rubbing his eyes.

 

“We are fine, darling. How are you?”

 

“And why are you home? It’s Friday. Go out and have fun!” says his father. 

 

“I don’t really feel like it, papa. I am fine right here.”

 

“What about your French friend? Why don’t you invite her?”

 

“Marzia is out with friends. Papa, maman, can you please not… I’m fine. It’s not as though I am lonely. I just… miss you guys so much.” He tears up again.

 

“You’re making us worried, darling,” says his mother.

 

“Please, don’t worry, maman. I’m fine. I’m not usually like this… Why are you up this late anyway?” says Elio taking Oliver on his lap and rubbing his soft furry skin.

 

"We may be old, Elio, but we still allow ourselves to have fun," says his father.

  
  


***

 

Oliver declines the offers from his colleagues to go grab a drink. One comes saying how he really needs a stiff drink because he has a newborn at home and he probably hasn’t had a proper drink in six months. That really made Oliver shiver and he shook his head saying “no, thank you, Carl. Think I’m just gonna head home.”

 

The phone call that he received from Vanessa last week has really left him shaken, so much so that he couldn’t stay in a foreign city, even for just one more day. He had to rush home. Had to come back to his life that he knew and wanted, that was familiar to him. Had to remind himself that nothing had changed yet.

He had finally started piecing his life together and the news couldn’t come at a worse time. He can just see his life crumbling down before him now. He tells himself he deserves nothing better.

 

He skips the beer today and goes straight to his balcony to see the sunset. He takes a cigarette out of his newly bought pack and lights it. The first thing he sees when he takes his first drag and lets it sit in his lungs is Elio sitting on his balcony floor, his back to him, and talking to someone over a video chat. He can hear him speaking Italian - except for a few lines, he doesn’t really understand much - but he can tell from the heaviness of his voice that Elio is crying. It’s not that he wants to eavesdrop anyway, so he looks away and tries to relax and enjoy his smoke.

In the whirlwind that he has been going through, he hasn’t given much thought to why Elio has stopped joining him for his morning jog. The reason was clear though. He was busy with his girlfriend. Who wants to spend their mornings with their neighbors running in the park when they have a girlfriend to pay attention to? Oliver understands, yet it disappoints him a tiny bit. He enjoyed their mornings together. He did wait for Elio, but not seeing him bursting out of his apartment with a blinding grin on his face was a total let down and a clear sign. But that’s okay. After all, Elio is still a kid. His likings, dislikings are bound to change abruptly. His priorities are bound to change. Oliver misses the puppy a lot though.

 

“Didn’t know you smoked,” comes Elio’s voice, clear and loud enough for Oliver to hear from his balcony.

 

Oliver looks his way and offers a smile. “I don’t.”

 

He is standing now while the puppy settles on one of Elio's feet and curls its tiny body, seeking body heat.  "Shouldn’t have started now.”

 

Oliver nods. “Believe me, I need this.”

 

“Rough day?”

 

“Rough week.”

 

There’s silence for a moment before Elio finds something to say. “Beautiful day, huh?”

 

Oliver nods. “What are you doing inside? You should be out with your girlfriend.”

 

“Can people stop telling me to go out for god’s sake?” Elio chuckles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Anyway, Marzia is with her friends illegally consuming alcohol.”

 

“Don’t tell me you don’t have a fake ID yet.”

 

“Why is that so surprising?”

 

“Because you’re Italian and you’re probably already in the habit of drinking wine with every meal.”

 

Elio narrows his eyes comically. “I’m not an alcoholic. But yes, I do like wine at dinner.”

 

Oliver laughs and shakes his head. “Why don’t you come over? And bring the little guy.”


	9. Wine and Dine on the Balcony

The rim of Elio’s eyes are still red and a pinkish hue has risen through his pale skin which is sad yet beautiful. Oliver would pay to see him cry, though it is wicked and it would break his heart, for such a sweet boy should not know sadness that rots every human soul. But Elio is beaming at him when he opens the doors for him and Oliver basks in the youthful and erratic joy that Elio has to offer.

Elio is holding puppy Oliver to his chest. Oliver’s hands are full with a wine bottle in one and balancing two glasses in another while he artfully opened the door with his elbow and feet.

 

“Are we celebrating something?” says Elio eyeing the bottle.

 

“Your American life,” offers Oliver. His gaze drops down to the puppy and he leans down to nuzzle his head before kissing it. “Hey, buddy!”

 

Elio fails to function. Oliver is too close. He smells everything at once and it takes him many many seconds to distinguish one from the other. He can smell his shampoo, his deodorant, and something that is totally Oliver with the mild smell of his sweat mingled with it. Oliver still hasn’t changed the clothes that he went to university in and Elio fails to understand how someone can smell so amazing after a whole day of work. It’s - Elio hates to admit - arousing, and he wills his manhood to not stand to attention.

 

Oliver furrows his eyebrows as Elio stands and blinks at him for a moment. “Close the door behind, will you?” says Oliver and leads him to his balcony.

 

Elio lets his puppy down and he runs after his Big O; Oliver’s big frame making the puppy look even tinier. There’s still light of the sinking sun pouring over the balcony and Oliver sets the glasses on the floor. Taking the puppy on his lap, he sits down so he won’t knock the glasses or the wine over. Elio sits opposite him and watches as he opens a brand new bottle for him.

 

“Shouldn’t you be advising against it? Aren’t you a professor… or something?” says Elio with a sly smile, tilting his head, feigning flirtatiousness while trying to calm himself and appear normal.

 

Oliver looks up at him without stopping pouring wine for Elio and smiles coyly. “I’m not  _ your  _ professor.” He raises his glass with fake elegance. “To underage drinking in America.”

 

Elio chuckles and, shaking his head, takes a sip and cannot stop the groan that leaves his mouth. He immediately takes the bottle and checks it. It’s old and very pricey. “Oliver… you didn’t have to...”

 

“It’s just wine, Elio,” says Oliver as though brushing it away. “Do you want leftover lasagna?”

 

“I never say no to food.”

 

“How come you’re so skinny?” says Oliver already rising to his feet.

 

“The word you’d want to use is ‘slender’. But I’ll forgive you ‘cause you’re cute.”

 

Oliver only chuckles and leaves to get the food in the oven. He returns shortly with lasagna on a single plate and two forks.

It’s properly dark when they think they’ve had enough. The bottle is almost empty and Oliver’s eyes shine with tiredness from the light that is pouring in through the doorway from his bedroom. He is blissfully tipsy and full. The corner that Elio sits in is shadowed by the wall and Oliver strains to see the blush from the alcohol that has replaced his teary one. 

 

“I haven’t had good wine in months,” says Elio, looking out through the railings, slurring his words a little.

 

“Yeah?” Oliver, with heavy eyelids, continues to stare at him. “You can finish the bottle, but I’m done, I know myself,” he sighs and closes his eyes. “I’m so tired.”

 

“Get some sleep. I should leave,” says Elio but doesn’t move an inch, neither does Oliver want him to. The puppy is napping on Oliver’s lap as he smooths his fur lazily. “You didn’t even have dinner.”

 

Oliver shakes his head which makes him a little dizzy. “I had lasagna.”

 

Elio laughs. “That’s… not dinner.” Elio stands on wobbly feet. “I’m gonna get out of your hair.” 

 

“No, no, no, no, stay...” Oliver grabs Elio’s wrist and whines and he cannot believe himself. “Let the little one sleep. If you pick him up now, he’s gonna wake up,” says Oliver, making excuse.

 

Elio smiles mildly and sits back down but not on his previous spot. He sits closer to Oliver, right in front of him, their folded knees touching. The smile doesn’t disappear, rather it turns into a grin. Oliver grins back and neither wants to admit what causes this joy. And before Oliver can predict his next move, Elio gets on his hands and knees and leans in to kiss him.  Both of them still smiling with their eyes closed. It is just a soft peck. And then another. Then another.


	10. Lightweight

When Elio breathes against his lips, Oliver comes to his senses and he softly pushes Elio on his shoulder. “Elio, no. You’re drunk. We are drunk.”

Elio sits back down without any protest. There’s silence and it’s uncomfortable and awkward. At least Oliver has something to do - he keeps stroking the sleeping puppy. Elio is back staring out at the night sky. And after a while, he joins Oliver in petting the puppy who is passed out on Oliver’s lap. Elio’s hand is too close to Oliver’s groin and soon enough he finds himself cupping his crotch.   
Oliver is calm when he looks down at his hand and then up at Elio and finds him staring at where his hand is.   
“Am I offending you?” Elio drawls.  
When for a long while Oliver doesn’t say anything, Elio leans in again and Oliver lets him. Elio is small and delicate but his lips seek dominance in the softest possible way. He licks Oliver’s lips and opens his own, letting Oliver come to him now, waiting to be kissed. Oliver takes his face in his hands and sucks on his plump lower lip. He can feel him smiling against his lips before he makes Oliver’s lips part and lets him have his spit, which is when Oliver realizes that Elio is still gripping and massaging him and has definitely felt him grow hard through the material of his pants. Oliver pushes at his shoulder again and makes him sit after taking his hand off his groin. “You should go. You’re drunk.”

 _“Que?”_ Elio seems disoriented and it’s no surprise that he doesn’t know which language he is using.

“Elio,” says Oliver firmly. “Go home. You’re drunk out of your mind,” says Oliver, knowing full well that it’s not just the wine’s effect.

_“Que? Pourquoi?”_

“Elio, you’re speaking French.”

“Why are you making me go?” he says, despair in his voice, sounding like a disappointed child.

Oliver sighs, and instead of repeating himself, he says, “Let me help you, come on.” He takes the puppy in one arm, which wakes him up, and helps Elio stand up.

“Are you gonna tell me you’re straight or something?”

Oliver thinks for a second, still holding Elio’s arm to steady him, then says, “We’re in no state to talk about this right now, Elio.”

“Oliver.” Elio stares into Oliver’s eyes as though challenging him. They don’t move, they keep standing facing each other.

Oliver looks down, he can’t stand looking into the hazel orbs right now. It’s all too much. “I’m not sure I’m available.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s not like you’re available either.”

“Oh my god, take  the hint, Oliver!” Elio laughs bitterly. “Marzia is not my girlfriend. Yes, we’ve slept together a couple of times, but that’s just-” Elio returns to his original question, “What’d you mean you’re not sure- what does that mean?”

“Elio-”

“What does it _mean?_ ”

“Elio, I’m married.”

Elio gets his arm out of Oliver’s hold and takes a step back. His gaze automatically drops to Oliver’s bare fingers. Of course, Oliver doesn’t miss it.

“We’re separated. But, but, it’s not- we’re not divorced and I don’t know where we stand… And it’s not, not as easy-”

“It’s fine,” Elio cuts him off. “It’s fine.” He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his face sighing. “Fuck, I’m so drunk.”

“Let me take you to your apartment.”

“It’s fine,” he repeats. “So just friends, huh?”

“I would like that,” says Oliver earnestly.

Elio takes his puppy from him and looks at anything but his face. “We’ll never speak again.”

“Don’t say that.”

“We won’t, you’ll see.” If only Oliver knew how hard it was, how much preparation he needed before he initiated the conversation from his balcony. “We’ll run into each other, we’ll smile, say hello, but we-”

Oliver’s phone rings. He takes it out of his pocket. It’s Vanessa. It’s a little late and Oliver is worried, praying nothing is wrong. “I have to take this,” says Oliver apologetically.

Elio nods and walks into the bedroom as Oliver turns around and receives the call. He can hear him promising someone to meet the next day. “I’ll be there at 10, I promise,” he hears him say before he waves goodbye to Oliver’s back and leaves his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel really bad. But I already had this written and I have a clear plotline that I can't change now (⊙＿⊙')


	11. Balcony Shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Didn't mean to keep this hanging. Just been sick. So this chapter hasn't even been proofread at all.

It is just as Elio said - they don’t talk. They go back to their tight smiles and good-mornings on their way out. Oliver wonders if Elio regrets what they did in their drunken haze. He sure does. Elio is young. A lot younger than him. What he has let happen - he isn’t even sure if that’s appropriate. He is embarrassed for his behavior but thankful that he was able to stop it before they went too far. 

Oliver can’t pretend that this hadn’t crossed his mind. It had and still does, and it is often hard for him to take his eyes off Elio. He is undeniably attracted to him. But he values their friendship and knows that - even if he ignored the age gap - right now this cannot happen, and he doesn’t want to lose him as a friend in the process. But probably he already has.

Elio shies away from him whenever they run into each other. The way Elio looks at him tells another story though. Elio’s gaze lingers for a beat which makes it seem as though he wants to say something before Oliver smiles and throws a “later!” Often times he even lets his mouth hang open and takes in a breath. Oliver waits. But then Elio then closes his mouth and just covers it with a smile. 

The smiles get in the way. 

Oliver wants to believe he is mistaken because everything else, all rational explanations, indicate what is obvious to him - Elio must be disgusted. He wants to say it was a mistake. He didn’t know what he was doing and now regrets and is embarrassed for his actions. Oliver would totally understand if he said so.

 

Elio doesn’t show up on his balcony very often now. Oliver watches the sunset everyday, Elio knows that. Perhaps he decidedly ignores going to the balcony at that time. One morning though, the puppy runs out into Elio’s balcony and upon seeing Oliver in his running pants on his own balcony, he starts wiggling his tiny tail and barking with his sweet squeaky voice at him. A sleepy Elio, in only his boxer briefs, comes out rubbing his eyes and pushing his messy hair out of his face. He shivers as the morning breeze of late October touches his sleep-warm skin while he scoops his puppy up and tip-toes inside as quickly as he can. Elio doesn’t see Oliver witnessing the whole thing but those ten seconds of dawn helps keep a smile on Oliver’s face the whole day.

 

The balcony shenanigans continue as on a weekend, Oliver finds Elio lying on the floor, headphones on, soaking up the last of the sun rays that the city has to offer. Only his head is out on the balcony floor while his body lay inside, with a cousin over the threshold. His eyes are closed as he hums and a juice box is on the floor beside his head as the straw hangs over his mouth so he can take a sip without moving.

Oliver smiles. Elio still isn’t interested in going out on weekends but he seems to be enjoying himself.

 

And then comes the day when his phone buzzes in the middle of a lecture. When he opens it after the class, he sees that for once it is exactly who he wants it to be.

 

 

Oliver smiles to himself. He is sure there is an eighty-year-old man trapped in Elio's body because of the way he talks, the things he knows, because of how brilliant he is. But he can also be so childish sometimes. Much as Oliver loves Elio's sagacity, he adores the child in him.

 

 

Oliver decides to keep it light. But after sending the text, he starts questioning himself.

Oliver has no one to talk to about these things. He doesn’t even get enough time or energy to think about it properly. He doesn't dare bring this up in front of Vanessa. She has enough on her plate as it is. Oliver thinks twice before saying anything to her, and it has been like this for a while. They have tried to rekindle the spark that was once there and have failed. It is not Vanessa’s fault, he knows. She has been nothing but kind to him and patient with this relationship, but everything has a limit. And Oliver was a mess. He can no longer differentiate between what he wants and what he should do. And this struggle wears him out and he stops thinking altogether. His every move is no longer as calculated as it used to be.

Nothing changes between them after the texts. Oliver waited for a while for a reply that never came. The smile game goes on for weeks until the day Oliver finds Elio climbing the stairs sniffling, his face bruised


	12. Hush Thee, My Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the chapter is from The Seal Lullaby by Eric Whitacre which is one of the songs I listen to while writing.
> 
> Sorry in advance for the short chapter and if there are too many typos. Couldn't edit, staring at the screen hurts

With a red paper pressed to his nose, Elio - his posture rigid - is climbing up the stairs. From above, Oliver can’t see his face as it is downcast, he can only see the mop of his curls. With his other hand, Elio is clutching the railing as he drags his feet up, taking his time.

Taking a second glance, Oliver corrects himself: it is not a red paper, it is a white napkin that is soaked with blood. Elio’s blood. Oliver stops in his tracks. “Elio?”

Elio looks up and Oliver is met with hazel orbs and bloodshot eyes filled to the brim with tears. Elio immediately casts his gaze downwards again, but Oliver hasn’t missed the cut under his left eye, another over his eyebrow, and a bruise on his cheekbone. He rushes down to meet him where he has stopped and puts a hand on his shoulder, rubbing soothingly. “Elio, what happened?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Elio.”

 

“A lowlife pulled out a knife, ok?” says he a little defensively.

 

“And they did this to you?” says Oliver calmly, trying to nudge the napkin away to see the damage.

 

Elio doesn’t let him. “I’m still bleeding.”

 

“Want me to take you to a doctor?”

 

“No, I’m fine.”

 

“Then let me take a look at that.”

 

“No, you should go wherever you were going. I don’t wanna keep you. I’m fine.”

 

“Elio, kindly shut up.”

 

And thankfully, Elio does. Oliver takes him to his own apartment and lets him lean against the kitchen isle while he digs out his first aid box which has hardly been used before. Elio doesn’t make a sound as Oliver carefully cleans the wounds and dabs antibiotic ointment on them, he keeps holding the napkin to his nose and looking at the floor. Gingerly Oliver removes his hand from his nose and cleans the blood. The bleeding has stopped and Oliver is surprised to find no wound there.

 

“Elio-”

 

“I get nosebleeds. I wasn’t hit here.”

 

“What happened exactly?”

 

“Well… he punched me and when I fell, I hit my forehead I think. Then he pulled out a knife and told me not to move, kicked me in the guts and took my wallet, my necklace with the star of David that I’ve had since fucking birth.”

 

“Does it hurt here?” says Oliver pointing at his torso.

 

When Elio nods, Oliver tentatively lifts his shirt, and, sure enough, finds bruises forming on his pale skin. Oliver feels a fire ignite in the pit of his stomach and makes a silent vow of choking the life out of that man if he ever finds him.    
But he calms himself when he sees Elio’s head hung low. That man is not important, he doesn’t need his attention - Elio is and Elio does.

 

“Elio, look at me?” he says softly.

 

Elio doesn’t; he keeps staring at his shoes. Oliver cups his jaw with one hand and Elio looks up at him from under his lashes as a fat drop of tear silently rolls down his flushed cheek. His face scrunches up with the force of the silenced sob and he tries to bury his face in Oliver’s palm which is almost large enough for him to do so. Oliver feels Elio lightly pushing out his lips as though to kiss his palm. He places a tender kiss on the red swollen skin over his eyebrow. ”It’s okay,” he whispers soothingly.

Elio lets out a tiny sob before Oliver cannot help but pull him to his chest. Elio clutches the back of his shirt and now fully buries his face in his collar. Oliver can feel him trembling. Oliver can tell he is scared, shaken and shocked, but also disgusted and frustrated.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“I don’t like it here,” says Elio as a sulky child would, though his voice is wavering.

 

It occurs to Oliver that this boy has perhaps never lived on his own, let alone live alone in a foreign country. And for something like this to happen to him must have made him feel very unwelcome and more alone than ever. Oliver’s natural instinct kicks in and he wants to comfort him, tell him that he is here for him, that he can knock on his door any time he wants. But he doesn’t want to be the creepy older guy, so he remains silent and rubs Elio’s trembling back.

  
  


When Elio triumphs in his attempt to not let out another sob and Oliver’s soothing hand on his back and hair, and his whispered words help subside the shaking, Oliver asks softly, “You’ve reported this, right?”

 

Elio shakes his head.

 

“Jesus, Elio, you gotta call your bank.”


	13. When I Sleep On Your Couch, I Feel Very Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not edited AT ALL
> 
> need i say where the title of the chapter is from?
> 
> Introducing ~~~*~~~Vanessa~~~~*~~~

Oliver makes sure nothing is broken, takes care of the bruise on his torso and helps him make the calls before sending him to take a shower while he fixes a meal. Elio puts up weak protests which are quickly dismissed by Oliver and Elio gets mock-scolded at again.

And Oliver himself makes a quick call before Elio gets back. 

 

“I’m sorry... ” he says on the phone. He only hears a heavy sigh from the other side. “I’m really sorry, I truly am.”

 

_ “It’s fine. I am used to disappointment.” _

 

“It’s not like I ditch every time.”

 

_ “What’s so important that you have to start ditching? Again?” _

 

“It’s… this kid, the kid, he lives next door. He was mugged. He’s pretty shaken up. And he doesn’t really have anyone else here.”

 

Vanessa sighs like always.  _ “You always have time for everyone but us.” _ Her voice is not accusing, just defeated which makes Oliver feel even worse.

 

He lets out a breath, his head hung. “That’s not true… V, you know-”

 

_ “This doesn’t really work if I’m the only one trying, you know,”  _ her voice still soft and patient.

 

“I know, really I do,” says he earnestly. “And I promise, I’m trying, and I’m sorry-”

 

_ “It’s fine. Take care of the kid, okay?” _

 

“Thanks, V. Let me pick you up for the appointment tomorrow?”

 

_ “I’ll pack tonight’s dinner for your lunch tomorrow?” _

 

Oliver doesn’t say anything for a second as he lets guilt eat him whole. “You really didn’t have to…”

 

Vanessa smiles.  _ “I’m trying.” _

 

“Shit…” he mutters under his breath as he finishes talking to his wife. He was supposed to meet her and she had made dinner for the two of them and in the state that her health is... 

There a sinking feeling in his stomach that he cannot but call guilt. He wants to run to Vanessa this instance just to get rid of this awful feeling. He doesn’t deserve her. 

_ She _ doesn’t deserve him.

Oliver wishes he could be something that he is not.

  
  


Elio brings the puppy when he returns to Oliver’s apartment after shower and Oliver forgets about the whole thing for a moment.

 

“Can I sleep on your couch tonight?” asks Elio timidly after dinner, he has been quiet throughout. “I hate sleeping in an empty apartment.”

 

Oliver is doing the dishes. He turns around to find Elio standing by the kitchen isle. “Of course, Elio. But you can sleep in the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

 

“I can’t-”

 

“I don’t mind sleeping on the couch. I’m so tired I pass out the second my head touches the pillow, doesn’t matter where I’m sleeping. You and Oliver go ahead to the bedroom. I gotta hop in the shower.”

  
  


With tiny Oliver curled up on his chest, Elio is staring up at the ceiling while lazily stroking the puppy when Oliver comes out of the bathroom. The blanket is pulled up to his chest.

 

“Can you please sleep in the bed? There’s plenty of room. And I feel guilty, I won’t be able to sleep,” says Elio. Something about the way he says it makes Oliver feel as though he has been practicing different versions of it before he said it and Oliver has come out before he could reach the final polished version of it. When Oliver opens his mouth, Elio says hurriedly before he can answer, “if you’re comfortable.”

 

Oliver closes his mouth. He has to be the grown up here. He thinks for a second before saying, “would  _ you _ be comfortable?”

 

Elio shrugs. “I wouldn’t have asked to stay in your apartment if I weren’t.”

 

So Elio is not one of those people who find it hard to fall asleep when someone who is not their partner is sleeping in the same bed. Oliver gets rid of the towel before turning off the lights and getting into bed. There’s a two-feet empty bedding between them and Oliver is facing the window. He feels the puppy moving and getting down from Elio’s chest. After a while, he feels him nuzzling against his back before he hears Elio’s blissed-out breathing. This oddly feels so comforting, and he lets his eyes close and sleep take him.

 

In the middle of the night, Oliver is awakened by a soft rub of a single finger on his back. It stays there, softly touching him,  _ barely _ touching him, it’s hard to decide if it’s actually there or if Oliver has dreamt it. Oliver doesn’t move, doesn’t let the finger know that it has awakened him least it recoils. He listens. Elio’s blissed-out breathing has stopped, he is breathing a bit heavily now. But he is still as a pirate ship hiding in the fog. Oliver wants to turn around and comfort him, but he wants the finger to stay because he knows Elio is keeping the minimum physical contact so as not to rouse him but be irrationally comforted by it himself. He must be scared. Oliver wonders if a nightmare has woken him. And Oliver doesn’t want to turn around or let him know that he is awake. He doesn’t want him to feel embarrassed like he had after that kiss on the balcony. He wants Elio to know that it is okay, this finger is okay, that he would take him in his arms if he could.

He knows it’s not true but he feels heat spreading from Elio’s fingertip to his body, and the warmth lulls him back to sleep.


	14. Homesick

Elio wakes up to his phone chirping. Without opening his eyes, he groans, and turning around, he puts another pillow over his head and clutches it tightly. He is immediately bombarded with the scent of something familiar. A scent of affinity, of amity, of something inviting and so close to his self. Elio can live here, surrounded by this scent, live _in_ it.

He smiles without realizing he is before he opens his eyes to the harsh sound of his phone and he is met with reality. Last night’s incidence comes back to him and his forehead starts throbbing as though his heart has found refuge there. He’s afraid to touch it. He removes the pillow, _Oliver’s_ pillow. The room is empty. He wonders for a second where Oliver is but, of course, the motherfucker is punctual as fuck. It reminds Elio of what Oliver had said to him once, that he would go out to jog at six every morning even when he spent the night with someone new. He grabs the pillow again though, and uses it as a body pillow, taking a sniff every now and then, he checks his phone. Marzia is blasting his inbox.

 

 

Let her come, Elio thinks, he needs her company. But he doesn’t want her to miss classes for him. So he texts back.

 

 

Yet there’s also this feeling that he doesn’t quite understand himself, that doesn’t want Marzia to come. Marzia is a part of this reality, his “American life”. He feels as though he becomes someone else when he is with Marzia or anyone from his university. No one is just _one_ person all the time and with everyone, and Elio understands that. But he doesn’t know if he has the energy left in him to be that other person now. He wants to be who he is right now. He wants to be who he is when he is in Italy. The feeling that you can't be in your sanctuary right this instant if you want to is depressing, it makes a hole in his chest and makes him suffocate that he can’t make go away. He closes his eyes and waits for it to pass. But his breathing gets more labored.

Last night’s incident has made it worse. If he is honest with himself, he doesn't want to talk about it. People say it helps if you talk. That has never been true in Elio’s case. When he talks, it’s as if it is written in stone. And with every version, another stone is created and the details become permanent. As unhealthy as it sounds, he wants to forget it, or at least pretend that it never happened. If he doesn’t talk, it’s easier to do so. Last night he made a promise to himself of returning home. That promise, though vague right now to his functional sober mind, is still not quite gone. He is done. He had thought he would be ok in a completely new country because he had never lived in a new country on his own. Dreaming about New York City was not as difficult as living in it. This sense of incognizance, unfamiliarity, unhomeliness… Elio doesn’t know how much longer he can endure it. He had thought he would be ok after a few months. After all, time heals everything. But no, Elio doesn’t think it has to. He is disgusted and frustrated and just _done._

 

When he sits up, he finds a sticky note on the bedside table.

_Taking the little one out to run._

__\- Big O_ _

 

***

 

“I’m making breakfast.”

Oliver turns around, smiling. He is breathing heavily, drenched in sweat and with the puppy clutched to his chest. The puppy wiggles and Oliver lets him down. He runs the little distance to Elio, who is standing at his own doorstep and who picks him up, and scratching his head, coos, “did you miss me? Yeah?” Then he asks Oliver, attempting a smile, “which tea do you want today?”

Smiling, Oliver unlocks his door.  “Elio, you didn’t have to.”

“No, I wanted to... as a thank-you for last night.”

“Friends don’t say sorry and thank you.”

“Don’t expect me to punch your arm and say something ridiculous like ‘bruh’....”

Elio’s pronunciation of ‘bruh’ cracks Oliver up. Elio attempts to laugh with him, but Oliver can see he is struggling, as though his lips were a new rubber band that could stretch but with difficulty and not so much. Oliver wants to mourn for the lost light in his eyes. He would do anything to get the spark back in his soul.

“Is that what you think of Americans?”

“Just get your ass in here.”

“This sweaty ass needs a shower first.” Then with his back already turned, he adds,  “I’ll be there in ten. Keep everything warm, honey.”

He regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth. His intention to say it as a joke hasn't really worked. So he shuts the door behind him before he can say something even more idiotic.


	15. Me Okay

“Are you sick? You sound kinda sick,” comes Marzia’s voice from his phone. Elio can hear the bustle around her and tell that she is rushing through to get to the arts building for her next class.

 

“I’m not sick. I’m fine, like I said.” Elio is sat at his kitchen isle with pancakes on display and sipping on his ginger and honey tea. Little joys of life.

 

“But you never miss class…”

 

“Seriously? How long have you known me really?” When he hears a huff from the other side, he continues, “look, something happened that I don’t want to talk about. Frankly, I want to forget about it. So please…”

 

"So you're fine now, right?"

 

"Right."

 

“Okay. But can I stop by? Do you need anything?”

 

“‘Course, you can, Marz. And no, I don’t. Just come over after class.” He can’t say no to Marzia. Who knows, maybe Marzia is who he needs right now.

 

 

“Ooh, pancakes.” Oliver comes in minutes after Elio hangs up the phone. His hair, sleek and darker after shower, is brushed back. His shirt tucked into his slacks. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows to display his long tanned and toned forearms. He looks more like a movie star than a professor. Elio wonders if his students find it hard to concentrate on the class.

 

“So, which tea?” says Elio motioning dramatically towards his tea cabinet with both hands like a magician’s assistant showing the audience the empty box in which they will make something appear later.

 

“What are you having?”

 

“Ginger. With honey.”

 

“I’ll have that, please.”

 

Elio loves how Oliver is not walking on eggshells around him. He is exactly how he has always been. And Elio feels a tiny smile stretch over his lips as he gets him the promised tea.  _ This _ is what he needs.

 

After consuming half of the breakfast that Elio has made - which Elio happily shoved onto his plate; the guy is big, he needs food - Oliver leans back on his chair, sighing. “I ate too much.”

 

“That’s nothing seeing how… big you are.”

 

“I know my limit, Elio, and I ate too much.”

 

Bowing his head, Elio lets out a soft chuckle; his elbows resting on the isle. He ruffles his hair, and when he looks back up with the smile that is fainting, he finds Oliver staring at him. And for a second he swears he sees concern in his eyes before it is replaced with something that Elio can't quite name.

 

“Well, I should leave or I’m gonna be late.”

 

Elio nods, forcing a smile. Oliver walks to the door and the puppy follows him, Elio doesn’t stop the little one, knowing all too well that Oliver won’t let him get out. But also because at least the puppy is doing what he wants to do himself. He wants to follow Oliver. He wants Oliver to stay too. And there is a sudden urge in him, which he is surprised to discover and yet at the same time realizes that it has always been there - an urge to embrace Oliver, to cling to him, to be surrounded by Oliver.

And as if stopped by his inner pull, Oliver turns around and finds Elio looking down at the table again. “You okay?”

Elio thinks for a moment, then nods without raising his head. And when he does look up at him, he stretches his lips. “Me okay.”

“You know you call me,” says Oliver. Then he adds, “if you need anything,” as though to say that Elio can call him even if he didn’t need anything, even if he just felt like calling him. Then he repeats to reassure Elio of his open-secret message, "anything."

 

*

 

When his parents Skype him that day, they know something is wrong the way all parents know when something is wrong with their babies. And as much as Elio hates to recall it, he knows his parents are worried and that he has to tell them. Talking about the incidence makes him realize that even though he is super good at forgetting what he wants to forget and pretend like it never happened, he can’t do anything to erase the lingering feeling that it leaves behind. Maybe this is why we feel as though we are depressed for no reason when we definitely have a good reason - or multiple reasons - but we have done a very good job at forgetting it.

 

His father is quiet while distress is visible on his mother’s face throughout the whole story. His parents don’t ask questions like ‘what were you doing out so late’ or ‘ why were you in an empty alley’. They are simply not the kind of parents who will look for faults in him before pulling him in for a hug. Of course, they look out for him as any parent would. But there are somber ways of warning you kids about danger.

 

“Write to your professors and come home if you need to, Elio,” says his father after a long moment of silence, “even if it is for a few days.” 

 

This - Elio tells himself - this is what he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if you are hating it because it's progressing so slowly


	16. A Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus. If anyone was waiting that is...  
> I keep getting sick. I'll post regularly from now on.

Oliver falters in his classroom for a second when a curlyhead looks up at him from their laptop. The face has been concealed behind the computer so when it rises above it, for Oliver, only a brunette bush of hair materializes among his students. And his heart skips a beat before he composes himself, clearing his throat.

Obviously, it isn’t Elio. But that didn’t stop it from reminding Oliver of him.

 

Oliver was awake before his alarm went off this morning. He was careful to turn it off before it was time. He didn’t want to wake the sleeping boy beside him. 

Or the puppy.

Elio was on his tummy while his head had rolled off his pillow and lay flat on the bed, facing Oliver. His hair a dark halo around him and his pouty lips ajar. His hand was still stretched over the two feet of empty mattress that Oliver had left between them, still trying to reach Oliver with his forefinger in his sleep. 

That finger had moved slightly when Oliver woke up, and he could no longer feel it there. His sides ached from sleeping in the same fashion the whole night.

 

It was a little past 5:30 and he should have been up but Elio’s face… Oliver couldn’t help thinking how fitting his name was. The soft light of dawn had seeped through his white curtains and made the room warm and ethereal. But it felt as though Elio was giving out a steady light of his own, as though something on the inside of his skin had been ignited. 

The areas around his wounds had swollen up, taking on an angry red hue and Oliver couldn’t stop staring. Careful not to touch his skin, Oliver reached out and softly flicked a lock of dark hair that had fallen over the cut on his brow. He told himself he did so to inspect the wound only and with no ulterior motive.

Elio huffed out a breath through his open mouth in his sleep and Oliver was quick to take his hand away, a little shocked and a little scared. Once he was sure he hadn’t woken Elio up and wasn’t caught red-handed, he sat up. Burying his face in his hands, Oliver thought how it might have looked if he did wake Elio up. 

Elio had asked to share the bed because he trusted Oliver. Oliver wasn’t sure he deserved it. He wasn’t sure what he was doing was appropriate. He checks the time on his phone. Yup, he had been staring at his sleeping form for more than half an hour.

He feels the puppy trying to get onto his lap. He has definitely woken the little one up.

As quietly as he could, he got ready and got out of the house so as not to disturb Elio, but not before leaving a note for him so he won’t be frantic when he sees his puppy missing, but careful not to throw another glance at Elio.

 

He was careful not to stare at his wounds when they were having breakfast together. He wanted to lick them and place soft kisses on them. Blow cold air on them and whisper soothing words to him.

_ Inappropriate.  _

More so seeing that he had to go meet his wife in half an hour. His wife who he had to take to her doctor. 

 

For the rest of the class, Oliver pushes the image of sleeping Elio at the back of his head and carries on with the lecture. But once he is alone in his office, he can’t help but recall the whole thing - from finding him crying on the staircase to saying goodbye to him this morning. He is not sure if he was mistaken when he saw the longing in Elio’s eyes. 

He rewinds what he had said while Oliver was cleaning his wounds. About his necklace getting snatched.

 

That Friday Oliver finds himself knocking at Elio’s door as soon as he gets up on their floor and is met with bloodshot eyes when Elio opens the door. He is again filled with the urge to lick - this time - his eyes and whisper that everything will be okay.

“You okay?”

Elio smiles. “Yeah, fine.” 

But of course, he is not. Oliver decides to let it go. It's not as though he is totally clueless about what is bothering Elio. “I- uh, I got something for you.”

“Really?” Elio grins.

Oliver takes out a scarlet box from his bag and hands it to Elio.

“Why though? It’s not my birthday or anything.”

“I think you just say ‘thank you’ when somebody gives you something.”

“I thought you said friends don’t say ‘thank you’.”

Oliver rolls his eyes. “Just open it.”

Elio’s mouth hangs open when he sees what it is and he cannot take his eyes off it or say anything coherent. “Oh god...” He looks up at the man smiling mildly at his rapture. “Oliver… thank you...”

And something about the way Elio says it makes Oliver think that he means it in the truest sense possible. And he is thoroughly surprised when Elio pulls him in for a hug. 

A tiny part of him is sure it is anything but platonic. Elio, with his right hand clutching the box still, has spread his left palm over his back and is now stroking him - his hand going up and down the expanse of his back. He buries his face in Oliver's chest and after a moment, his breath shuddering, he whispers, “thank you...”

Oliver hugs him back and allows himself to close his eyes. He is careful not to open his mouth, because he cannot trust himself to say anything right now, because if he does open his mouth he will either sigh or let out a moan. The palm keeps its torturous little act on and Oliver feels as though his whole body will catch fire any second now because wherever the hand is going, he is sure it is leaving a burn on his skin. He turns his head slightly to nose the soft curls and takes a long sniff. The odor makes him tighten his hold on Elio’s lithe shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. In the book Elio licks Oliver's eyes.


	17. Eyes Always Seeking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been listening to Hozier's 'Like Real People Do' while writing. Might have affected it a bit...  
> Sorry for the tiny chapter

He is on the brink. One more push and Oliver knows he will break. That easy. 

But the spell is broken by the sound of an incoming text which makes Oliver jerk, and Elio lets him go. “Thank you,” he says again, looking down. But Oliver doesn’t miss his cheeks gaining color.

“Pleasure.”

The choice of words makes Elio look up at him through his thick lashes, a timid smile on his lips. He shakes his head to compose himself. “Come in, please. You’ve been standing outside for too long.” And as soon as Oliver shuts the door behind him, Elio says, “put it on me?”

Oliver smiles. It is a silver chain with a star of David locket on it. He takes it out of the box and motions for Elio to turn around. The expanse of his long neck is exposed to Oliver as he lets his mouth hang open. Something feral in him forces him to stumble closer to the porcelain skin and inhale deeply. He smells something that is purely Elio, no lotion, no soap, no product, nothing. He nuzzles his hair from behind, this time not caring if Elio feels him do it or not.   
But Elio does feel him and lets him know that by letting out a blissful sigh as Oliver fastens the necklace and lets his fingers linger there, the tips touching the skin. Elio shivers as he gets goosebumps and they close their eyes as Oliver fully buries his nose in Elio's hair, neither wanting this to be over, neither wanting to pop the bubble that they’ve created where real life doesn’t exist, nor does its tribulations, where what happens between them affects no one but themselves, where they are the only living ones. It is easy and so, so beautiful. Oliver’s hands stay in place.

“Oliver…” Elio says, a bit whiny as though he is high. In a way he is.

“Hmm?” His phone buzzes with another incoming message which makes Oliver knit his eyebrows. Who has the heart to disturb this bliss?

“I’m leaving for Milan tomorrow.”

Oliver opens his eyes and steps away. It’s another second before he finds his voice. “You serious?”

Elio turns around and finds Oliver’s mouth hanging open and his brows furrowed. “I am. I was just Skyping with my parents, they sent the ticket. It’s fixed”

“Is it- are you... permanently?” 

“No. Just this semester. I’m coming back after the holidays. I’m sure I’ll be okay by then.”

Oliver looks down before, composing his face, he looks up at him again and offers a tight smile. “Of course, you will be.”

Elio nods and scrumbles to find something to say.

Oliver fills the silence between them. “You never said anything.”

“I wasn’t sure myself. I was thinking I’ll probably change my mind at the last minute, but…”

“But you couldn’t?”

He shrugs.

Oliver smiles again. “So you’re not gonna be here for Christmas?”

Elio shakes his head.

“Well, it’s a Christmas gift then,” says Oliver pointing at the necklace. “Now you have an occasion.”

Elio laughs softly. “Giving me a star of David for Christmas?”

Oliver finds the strength in him to chuckle. “When do you leave tomorrow?”

“I leave in seven hours.”

Another incoming text. Oliver tuts and, mumbling under his breath, gets his phone out. Elio sees his eyes grow wide as he reads the texts and starts to panic.

“Oh my god- oh god… Elio I have to go.” 

Before Elio can ask or say anything, Oliver is out of the door and running down the stairs. He only hears him speak with alarm on the phone as he descends, “You okay? Stay right there. Lie down. I’m on my way, okay? I’m calling the hospital.”


	18. Note

It was as though he could see his whole life crumbling down in front of his very eyes as soon as he heard the words.

 

“I’m pregnant.”

 

The life that he had built for himself piece by piece. Perfect education, perfect family, perfect wife. Then he had to diminish that because his marriage was no longer perfect. They had just learned to coexist. Whatever spark they had, it was lost long ago, and they had decided to take some time off, to try and find the spark. Couples therapy. Weekly dinners together. And they were good. But were they going forward or hovering in the same place like a sail-less boat in the middle of a windless sea? Deep down Oliver knew it wasn’t going to work. He wouldn’t mind sharing his life with Vanessa, but by doing so before, he had realized that he was numbing a part of himself that craved what they didn’t share. Oliver believed he wasn’t looking for anything, which led him to ask himself if being alone was better than being with Vanessa.  
But then he met Elio, the boy who planted something beautiful in him that soothed and, at the same time, scared him. It simply wasn't possible. He wanted to build his life again, not destroy it. And Elio was far too young to be involved in any of this; he didn't deserve it. Oliver had since learned to push his thoughts at the back of his head whenever they stumbled upon Elio.

Oliver was getting ready for his second day at the seminar when he had received the call. Vanessa stuttered for a while before she broke the news.

“How long?” he had asked.

“Five weeks… I didn’t want to tell you before I was sure.”

“About?”

“Whether to keep it…”

Of course, it was her decision and hers alone. Oliver didn’t feel like he had any say in this, nor did he want to. Then he made the mistake of asking the wrong question. “Is it- is it mine…?”

There was silence on the other side before Vanessa breathed. “You asshole…” her voice dangerously calm. And hurt.

That pulled Oliver out of the haze that made everything seem unreal. His whole body gave a jerk and he became aware of the buzzing sound in his ears. “V, I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You know what? Forget it. I shouldn’t have told you. It’s not your burden to bear.”

“What do you me- of course, it is. It’s as much my responsibility as it is yours.”

“No. No, Oliver, I don’t want you to be there because you feel like it’s your responsibility and you are bound to some kind of-”

“It’s not like that.”

 

He ran home that day. He was scared. He needed time to clear his head. Maybe this was what they needed, Oliver told himself. 

Pregnancy wasn’t suiting Vanessa well. And as her health was getting worse and worse, he made a pact with himself of taking care of her. He had even asked her to move back in with him. She was still convinced he was doing all this from a sense of responsibility and nothing more, and she didn’t want that.

 

***

 

“You gave me a scare,” says Oliver, smiling tenderly at his wife.

Vanessa lazily closes her eyes again and, sighing, smiles back. She is always calm. Oliver wonders how she manages to do that. She is lying on a hospital bed, bleeding, and she is still calm. “Sorry about that. What did the doctor say?”

“You’re okay. The baby is okay. Healthy. Perfect heartbeat and everything. But you need full bedrest.”

Vanessa huffs. “For how long?”

“Until the bleeding stops. And then some. Also, you’ll be on medication. And some sort of an injection that I don’t-”

“Oliver…” That makes Oliver stop from rambling. “It’s fine. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Oliver takes a deep breath and smiles. A moment passes before he wonders out loud, “Why couldn’t we be like this? Before?”

“Like this?” she teases.

“...harmonious.”

“Oh please. Spending one evening together every week, I can stop myself from getting frustrated with you for one evening every week. And you can take pity on me. But every day like this... we’ll run out of patience.”

“But it’s changed now, isn’t it? I mean we’ve changed.”

Vanessa tilts her head. “You think so?”

“We can’t give up. Not now. Not after all this.”

“Things shouldn’t change because I am sick and pregnant.”

Oliver sighs. “I’m trying my best, you know.”

Vanessa cups his jaw with one hand and makes him look up at her again. “Sweetheart, we shouldn’t  _ try _ .”

_ What should we do? _ \- Oliver wants to ask. But this is not the time nor the place and that is not what he wants to think about right now.

“Go home. Wash up and go to bed. You look exhausted.”

“No, I’m staying the night,” says he matter-of-factly.

“Last time you stayed the night, disaster ensued,” she smiles.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s what we needed.”

“Go, rest. They’ll take care of the injections and all. Anyway, I need to let my parents know. You don't want to be here for that.”

 

***

It’s late into the night when he gets home. His tired eyes almost miss the sticky note tacked onto his front door. 

 

_ Just wanted to say bye. Your phone is off too. I hope everything is ok.  _

_ Please let me know.  _ _ Oliver is gonna miss his Big O. As will I. _

_ \- Elio _

 

Elio has already left. 

With the note in hand, Oliver presses his forehead on the door with a soft thud and sighs. Elio has left but not before thinking about him, not before leaving this note stuck on the front door, not caring if anyone saw, as though declaring to the world that he was going to miss him and that he was thinking about Oliver when he left. Oliver wishes he could be as brave as this boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't add the pregnancy complications without research. That's something that can actually happen in real life; my sister is going through stuff...
> 
> Didn't get the time to edit. Sorry for the typos and mistakes!


	19. Elio's Spot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay again. I'm kinda busy (and I don't like being busy).  
> Also, this is nearing the end I think. There'll probably be 6 or 7 more chapters.

_ 5 weeks later _

 

It’s the week before Christmas and Oliver has just dropped Vanessa off at her apartment. She is discharged from the hospital but is not to work very hard - doctor's orders - and Oliver isn’t sure if he should have insisted on staying there for the night or not, in spite of her protests. He knows she was protesting more for him than for her own sake. She always has been the responsible one. Oliver doesn’t know how much help he could have been to her, she is not the kind of person who can ask for help. She will get everything she needs herself as long as there’s air in her lungs. 

Besides, Oliver couldn’t wait to get out of the place where there was a constant reminder of what the future holds in store for him. It’s eleven in the morning on a weekend and he pulls out a detective story to distract himself. He is supposed to leave for his parents’ place in two days and he is dreading to pack for his visit because packing means it is permanent. A tiny irrational part of his mind still thinks he can dodge it. He has to bring Vanessa with him and pretend that everything is normal, the thought of which scares him because nothing is okay. 

The thing he wishes he could do is having Elio and the puppy over, see him lounge on his couch, seemingly comfortable and at home, while cracking weird jokes about the name that he and the puppy shares.  
From the regular update that Oliver gets from Elio, Oliver, the puppy, has grown a bit. He wishes he could cuddle the little one.

 

He doesn’t give his sudden desire to talk to Elio second thoughts anymore, and he is hit with an explosion of glee everytime he thinks about how close they are now. 

He sends a text. Minutes later Elio replies asking if he can facetime him. Will there ever be a time when Oliver will let a chance to spend time with Elio slip? Never.

 

“Look. At. This,” Elio says, turning the camera, before Oliver can even say hello.

“Whoa…”

The lake that Oliver can see on his phone is frozen. Bits of the almost black trunk of the barren trees peek through the white snow gathered on it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Breathtaking.”

“This is my spot. All mine. I come here to read in the summer.”

“Not now?”

“Too cold. Plus, it’s so much more beautiful when it’s not so gloomy. Wish you didn’t have to see it through my shitty phone.”

Oliver takes in a deep breath. “Me too.”

“You can come you know.” Elio flips the camera and Oliver can see his face, gone even paler now, his eyes cast downwards as though he is shy and he wants Oliver to see him and know that he means what he says but doesn’t want to see Oliver seeing him. “My parents will be thrilled. Dad will get a new toy to play with.” He chuckles. “Y’know he invites scholars during the summer.”

Oliver smirks and thinks out loud, entertaining the possibility. “I could use a vacation.”

Elio’s eyes brighten. “So?”

He shakes his head and huffs, still smiling. “I can’t. I have work.”

“But it’s Christmas.”

“And I am a professor. Besides, my wife…” he pauses

“Yeah…?”

“She’s… I should spend the time with her.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

They're both silent for a while. _Because_ _I’d rather spend the time with you._

Smiling, Elio shakes his head. The sage that he is, Oliver has no doubt that Elio doesn’t need the answer. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“Turns out my parents had one of these made for me when I got here,” says he holding the star of David pendant.

“Oh no...” Oliver grimace. “Now I feel bad. You can totally put theirs on, I won’t mind at all.”

“But I wanna wear yours,” he says in all seriousness and with the innocence of a child.

“I feel bad though.”

“My parents don’t mind. They’re pretty… chill.”

When silence stretches on, the smile fades away from Elio’s lips as he stares at Oliver’s face. All of a sudden, he flips the camera again, showing him the frozen lake. “I wish you were here, Oliver…”

“Elio... can I see your face?” he says slowly.

Elio does as told and offers a tight-lipped smile. “We’ll facetime again when I come here in the summer. I’ll show you how beautiful the place actually is.”

“Still it will never be like seeing it in real life I guess,” says Oliver, talking about the place, but also not.

“Never.”


	20. Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not edited at all  
> Also, I changed Vimini a bit

Three days before Christmas found Elio out with his friends - mostly friends of a friend. Vimini has been their neighbor for as long as he can remember. He remembers being excited for their summer vacation in Crema thinking that he would get to see her after months, get to teach her new games and tricks while learning some from her in return. Vimini is two years older than Elio and he doesn’t remember a summer without her. Vimini lives in Ireland with her Irish father and Italian mother and comes to Crema to spend Christmas and summer vacation as does Elio’s family. She is bubbly and easy to talk to, much like Marzia, which is probably why she was Elio’s friend seeing that Elio finds it hard to make consistent friends. Not that he cares or even tries to work on it, but he is careful not to let people know that. He is grateful for the handful of friends that he has. 

Elio checks his phone while smiling at a tipsy Vimini shouting obscenities at a friend of hers. Oliver has texted him seven minutes ago.

"How's my buddy?"  
  
Elio sends his own pic, a goofy one, as a joke because he knows who he is talking about before he sends the latest picture that he took of the puppy.

 

Without replying, Oliver calls him. Elio goes outside and finds a quiet place. He leans against a wall and smiles. "Hey."

"Hey," comes from the other side. And Elio hears Oliver sigh.

He lets a few moments pass. "Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Then why are you home alone?" When for a while Oliver doesn't answer, it starts to worry him. "Oliver, is everything ok?"

"It's just... I told my parents about me and Vanessa... my wife. They didn't take it very well."

"They kick you out?"

"Not really. We left. Stormed out. I couldn't take it."

Elio tries to find something to say, tries to soothe Oliver. "It's... they'll come around. You-"

"So you left Oliver home, yeah?" Oliver cuts him off. Clearly, he wants to change the subject.

"Yeah. Did you want to see him."

Oliver hums. "I miss him."

Something in Elio breaks and he sighs. "I miss you."

Oliver hums again. "You should go back to your friends. I'm gonna take a shower."

 

*

 

The morning light stumbles over his fingers as they dance over the keyboard. He is playing his own version of Moonlight Sonata. He is sure if his father hears him playing, he will smirk and comment about it being daytime. But that is in the back of his head. What is brain is primarily occupied with is Oliver. A strange dream of the man has woken him up from his deep slumber this morning. A dream that has come with sorrow and desire. He wants him. But he also feels a dire need to hug him and console him because Oliver is not okay.  
He rests his forehead on the keyboard and sighs. He texts him. _Hey_. Oliver is most definitely asleep by now.   
He is wrong. Elio gets a text back. It's after midnight where Oliver is and he is not asleep.

_Can I call you?_

_Of course._

 

 

This time Elio facetimes him because he wants to see him.

But when Oliver accepts the call, he sees the black and white of a keyboard and long lean fingers resting on it.

Oliver is snuggled in his bed with the blanket covering the lower half of his face but Elio sees a slight confusion pass over it. "I want to play something for you."

"I've never seen you play before."

There's silence. "I wish you were here, Oliver..." He closes his eyes and starts playing his version of Albinino's Adagio. 

When he closes his eyes he sees the things he loves, the idea of the things he loves; his mind paints an abstract painting of nature, of infinity, of things imperishable and immortal. Now, every picture he chases leads him to the man's features, fingers, smile - the man whose pillow is gathering salty water at the moment.

"I miss you too," Oliver says with nasal voice when Elio finishes playing. "Very much."

The moment Elio sees the beautiful blue eyes glistening, he makes up his mind.

 

 


	21. Despite The Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you remember the first chapter, it kind of comes full circle.

_ Christmas Eve _

 

Climbing the stairs always seems like a miserable task. But even though Oliver’s steps look defeated, he is not exactly miserable tonight for a change. He had just had dinner with Vanessa and her sister, who has come to look after Vanessa for a couple of weeks. Dinner that Vanessa and he cooked together. And when Oliver was taking his leave, Vanessa had leaned in and kissed him on his lips.  


They  were taking it slow and this move both shocked and delighted Oliver. He was relieved to see that he didn’t hate it, rather he was happy that they were able to come so far. But on his way home, that relief was shadowed by doubt. Doubt because he began to compare, and comparing never did anyone any good. Comparing what he felt for the boy living next door and what their separation had done to him with the affection that he felt for Vanessa which did not include the flaming longing that he felt for Elio.  
Oliver had touched Vanessa's still flat belly to feel the presence of a being they had created together, though accidentally. The lack of affinity, love that he knows he should feel for the human being growing inside her gave Oliver all the more reason to hate himself, with the incidence at his parents' house still shadowing over him. 

So his brain stops functioning for a second when after opening the front door he hears a familiar squeaky bark. When he turns around, the puppy, wiggling its tiny tail, runs to him and settles on his feet, looking up at him. But Oliver can’t really pay attention to the puppy because he is too busy staring at Elio who is striding at him without hesitation.

“Elio,” as soon as it leaves his mouth, he finds his lips captured by the boy’s. 

Elio has grabbed him by the neck and made him lean down to meet his lips as he stood on tiptoe. Oliver cannot help but kiss him back earnestly because, now that it is happening, the part of his mind that is not rational and is usually quiet, screams at him saying that this, _this_ is what he has been praying for. This is the answer to everything.  
This fills the void in his life.  
This boy.   
This is everything. 

 

When they separate to pant against each others' mouths, Elio whimpers as though he is wounded, his eyes still closed. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You came back.”

“For you,” with this he opens his eyes to look at the ocean blue ones. He pecks on his lips again and again, as though he can't get enough, softly at first until it becomes needy. 

Oliver knows if he doesn’t stop now, something might happen. So he lightly pushes at Elio’s tummy. “Elio, please-”

And before he can finish, Elio starts chanting, “please… please… please,” with a bit between every 'please', which is a totally different 'please' than the 'please' Oliver was intending.

As Elio starts swaying both of them from side to side, with his eyes closed and arms wrapped around Oliver’s neck while his fingers tangle in his hair, it becomes clear to Oliver that he can never regret this. And he selfishly captures Elio’s mouth, throwing worry to the wind, and let Elio wrap a leg around his waist. They groan in unison as their crotches rub together.

“I dreamt about this…” Elio whispers between kisses, his voice heavy as though he is drunk. 

In a way Oliver is drunk as well. “What happened in your dream next?”

Elio sighs and smiles. “You picked me up and took me to your bed.”

And Oliver does pick him up, with both of Elio’s long lean legs wrapped around his waist. But he doesn’t take him to his bed before he closes the door and kisses him some more, touching his back, his lithe waist, the slight bump of his ass, his neck, hair, ears, wherever he can reach. And he realizes that they have unsettled the puppy long ago and he was now lounging on the sofa paying them no mind. When they chuckle drunkenly, it vibrates their insides.

This is fine. This is  _ everything. _


	22. Woke With His Walls Around Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the chapter from Hozier's 'Work Song'.

For a while, Elio thought Oliver was asleep. And maybe he was asleep. Elio can’t tell, because he spasms his muscles and Oliver moves with him, like waves seem to take the water around them along and become one and the same thing. The ocean.

There is a tiny smile on Oliver’s face. Unabashed. Blissed out. As though he has found peace, has come home after a decade spent among Trojans. As though he has discovered a secret, found the holy grail, and he is about to whisper it in Elio's ear.

It puts a smile on Elio’s face and he places a kiss softly on his hairline. Oliver sighs and holds Elio a little closer, even though there is practically no space left between them. 

Oliver lies with his head resting on Elio’s lithe shoulder as his leg lay tucked between his lover's, and his hand sprawled over his abdomen, caging him. A heap of limbs. They can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

The hand under Oliver’s head bends up to softly scratch his head. Elio can’t remember the last time he was this peacefully happy. His neurons are not sprinting around in his brain like usual. He is happy, he is calm, and he would have never known peace if this moment were to be stolen from them. The outside world doesn’t exist. They, the two of them, don’t fill the world. They _are_ a world. Two hemispheres of a world where the sun setting down or rising up doesn’t affect them at all.

Elio kisses the high bone of Oliver’s cheek and Oliver buries his face deeper into his neck. Just an hour ago, they were huffing, repeating each other’s names, mingled with obscenities as Oliver pushed in and out of Elio’s body. Why does it feel like they’ve been doing this all their lives?

 

“You have to help me,” Oliver had whispered without hesitation, as though telling him a secret. A secret that if the world knew about, it would shame him, but there is so space for such an insignificant thing as shame between them. He didn’t want to hurt Elio, and he wanted him to know that. “I’ve never…”

Elio had climbed over him and tried to finger himself without grimacing. But Oliver could tell he was struggling. He gently took his hand away and replaced it with his own. He massaged the tight muscle with patience. 

“Like this?” he asked.

“Ye-ah,” Elio huffed out, closing his eyes. “Can never do this myself… So good...”

 

‘Good’ doesn’t even come close to explaining what Elio felt throughout their hour-long love-making. He doesn’t know how long it took, he has no recollection of how many times they’ve made each come, but the clock says it’s almost four in the morning. 

Oliver’s breath brushes the sensitive skin of Elio’s neck and, humming, he shivers. It makes Oliver smile even more and he plays with Elio’s ear; the lobe, the folds. He wants to suck the soft appendage into his mouth and swirl his tongue around it. He noses his way slightly up and finds his other ear, bites and drags his teeth along the lob.

“Ow…” mumbles Elio weakly through a lazy chuckle.

Oliver pulls his face out of the chasm of Elio’s neck after placing another whispering kiss there.

“Is this what you dreamed about?” whispers Oliver, as though not to disturb the sleeping world, not to wake it and expose themselves to it. This night and this morning belong to them only; let the others sleep and not ask a share of it. 

“My dreams could never hold a candle to this.”


	23. Good Morrow To Our Waking Souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing after about three weeks. I can never make anyone understand how hard it was for me to not be able to write (fiction).

They don’t know when they drift off to sleep and wake up to soft kisses from each other again and again, as though even in sleep their unconscious minds make their bodies seek out and reach for the other.   
But once they are fully awake, naturally, they talk as Elio’s mind wanders off to mere hours ago when Oliver and he hadn’t yet found this thread that binds them. How far they all seem now, as though those happened in a past life.

“My parents and I… we were discussing if I should move back to Milan permanently,” Elio thinks out loud and feels Oliver falter on his way kissing his neck. “But when I saw you… even through the phone, I knew you weren’t happy. And now I know where I belong.”

“I don’t want to think, Elio,” Oliver whispers against his skin, his eyes closed. “Help me not to think.”

“Someone is in a mood to be dramatic,” says Elio, chuckling softly and climbing on top of his lover; their cocks brushing against each other's and forcing blissful groans out of their throats. “Well, Merry fucking Christmas.”

“What a lovely way to wish someone a Merry Christmas,” says Oliver, beaming, patting Elio’s bum, as he grinds against him.

 

Disturbing the bliss, Oliver’s phone starts to ring. He is surprised it’s not dead yet. He can’t remember when he last charged it or touched it even.

The annoying tune does nothing to dislodge Elio from Oliver. It is as though he has made a cocoon that nothing of the outer world can penetrate.

Oliver lets it ring and it goes to voicemail. But after a bit, it starts ringing again. He caresses the expanse of Elio’s smooth back, and softly calls, “baby… baby.”

Elio coos in response and doesn’t stop the grinding. "Baby?" he whispers from where his face is buried in Oliver’s neck.

“I have to get that.”

At first, Elio is a bit disoriented, confused thinking what Oliver is actually talking out. Once he is able to straighten his mind and come out of the haze, he lets out a frustrated sigh, and after a whole minute, finds the strength to move off of his new lover. Oliver doesn’t forget to press a kiss to his lips and another to the sensitive spot where his belly and hip meet before leaving the bed to find his phone in his pants pocket that is lying on the floor. 

It’s Vanessa. The phone has stopped ringing and Vanessa hasn’t left any voicemail. He puts on his boxers and pulls on a sweater and goes to the balcony so as not to disturb Elio, who has already buried his face in Oliver’s pillow and is breathing deeply, giving in to sleep.

 

“You called?” Oliver says when Vanessa picks up.

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

“I thought we already said it last night.”

“Did someone make a rule that you can’t wish people more than once?”

Oliver laughs, shaking his head. “Merry Christmas.”

“When are you coming?”

“I…” Oliver closes his eyes, leaning against the wall, and images of Elio floods his vision. Elio laughing, Elio sleeping, Elio kissing him. “I…” Oliver thuds the back of his head softly against the wall, trying to think straight and figure out how and what to tell his wife. “I… don’t think I’m coming, V.”

Vanessa sighs, as though she was expecting this answer. 

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine.”

“I really want to-”

“You don’t have to explain, Oliver. You’re not bound to. Last night was great. Let’s leave it at that.”

Guilt fills his insides. “Fuck…” he hisses under his breath and rubs his eyes.

 

When he enters the bedroom after saying goodbye to Vanessa, he is greeted with a view. Elio is on his back, Oliver’s pillow over his head, hiding his angelic face from view. He is lying sprawled over the bed like the Vitruvian man, like a starfish. His cock resting softly over his balls. The very sight aroused Oliver, and he lets it lure him in. How can a soft cock be arousing? But here he is.

Oliver walks towards him and settles between Elio’s spread legs. Caressing his lithe legs, Oliver feels Elio's muscles waking up to his touch. He places a kiss on his soft cock, watching his belly dip as he lets a breath out. He kisses again. And again. Until it starts filling up, and Elio, unable to tame his slightly labored breathing, pushes the pillow to the side and looks down at Oliver’s lips connecting to his cock as Oliver takes him in his mouth.

 

When Elio comes in his mouth, he gulps without thinking, naturally. He crawls up and pushing the bangs out of Elio’s face, he kisses his forehead softly in this moment of frantic passion. And that’s the exact moment Elio comes to a realization as their eyes, now dark with dilation, behold each others'.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ve loved you without knowing how or when or from where,” he whispers because love is the word that comes closest to turn this color that he feels inside into word. But it’s not enough. So he stares at him, frantically trying to figure it out and hoping he won’t need to and hoping Oliver will just know.

And Oliver does, because suddenly they are not thirsty anymore. It feels as though they have all the time in the world and they have been doing this all their lives. They are happy to reach out and be able to touch each other. They take their time exploring every inch of their bodies. Repeating what they did mere hours ago. They could never get tired of this.

When have they found this intimacy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries  
> the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,  
> and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose  
> from the earth lives dimly in my body.  
> I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where"
> 
> \- PABLO NERUDA


	24. Blissful Bubble

“Come, sit here,” says Elio, lightly tugging at the sleeve of Oliver’s coat.

They are in a cozy little cafe with glass windows. It’s the nearest one to their building. Elio was too hungry to wait for Oliver to make breakfast for him, but that wasn’t before Oliver pointed out to Elio that his stomach was making weird noises. Can he be blamed for not noticing his own hunger? His new found lover was flooding him with soft kisses for chrissakes. 

Oliver looks around, checking, before settling down beside Elio and putting their mugs on the table. The seat is big enough for the two of them and Elio doesn’t really want to be separated from Oliver right now; not even a tiny table between them is acceptable. So he rests his palm on Oliver’s thigh, letting him know how content he is. While still munching on his pancake, he looks up and offers Oliver a small smile; a smile that lets Oliver know, not how happy he is, but for how long he has wanted and waited for this.

Oliver’s heart breaks a little. Elio is so young and innocent. He wants to wrap his arms around him and kiss his forehead. But he can’t. He is hyper-aware of the hand on his thigh and of the people around them. He takes a sip of his coffee. “How’s your pancake?”

“It’s alright. But I still prefer yours.”

“I did offer. Do you want my omelet?”

“No, that’s fine.”

He takes a piece of his pancake and offers the fork to Oliver for him to taste.

Oliver hesitates again but takes it all the same. “Right, it’s not that good.”

Elio hums. “Can I get hot chocolate when we get home?” says he, nuzzling Oliver’s neck.

The cafe is almost deserted except for a couple more people. It still makes Oliver anxious and he can’t stop himself before he turns his head to look around them and leaning away from Elio in the process.

The blissful bubble that Elio is in takes him this long to notice Oliver’s agitation. He slowly sits back and edges away from him, and when Oliver turns back in shock and fear, he offers him another smile that is so different from the one before. A tight-lipped smile.

“Elio, I…”

“It’s okay. It's fine. You don’t want to be outed yet. That’s completely fine. I understand.”

“That’s not-” Oliver shakes his head.   
That’s not the whole truth, he wants to say. Oliver doesn’t want to run into or be found out by his friends or acquaintances. Nobody has any idea that he is not only capable of, but is irrevocably in love with a boy. Not even Vanessa. He doesn’t know where his relationship with Vanessa stands and he has absolutely no clue where his relationship with Elio stands; he is afraid to ask Elio because what if it scares him off. He can never risk scaring Elio. Because all he knows is: he doesn’t want Christmas day to be over. He wants to spend the rest of his life stuck in his bedroom with Elio if that saves him from facing real life and all its tribulations.

This is the first time since last night that Oliver has thought about something that is not Elio and it makes him feel devastated.

 

“Hey…” Elio calls tentatively, his hand rising and stopping midway before it can touch Oliver’s cheek. “It’s okay.”

Oliver nods. He wishes he could talk.

 

…

 

“So, it was your first time?” says Elio, voice just above a whisper, teasing.

Oliver huffs. “What are you talking about? Of course, not.”

“You know what I mean. First time with a man.”

“You mean first time with a  _ boy? _ ”

Elio pinches the muscle just under Oliver’s nipple, making him shriek.

They are in bed again which Elio has decided is his favorite place so far to be with Oliver.  _ Home Alone _ plays on the tv and the sound it dialed down to the lowest. The promised hot chocolate sits on the bedside table, the mug half empty. The two of them are wrapped in a blanket; Oliver sitting, leaning against the headboard while taking Elio’s full weight as the smaller one is almost sprawled over him.

“I’m twenty,” informs Elio.

“Really? Your hair should be turning grey soon.”

This time, as punishment, Elio leans up to scrape his teeth against Oliver’s jaw.

Oliver laugh, taking more pleasure than pain from it. “You don’t have anywhere to be, do you?”

“Trying to get rid of me already?”

“Just trying to figure out who will come looking for you if I imprison you here for the rest of the week.”

Elio chuckles. “Just my parents. You’re lucky. They are thousands of miles away. This is my first Christmas without them.”

“What about that girl… your friend?”

“Marzia? She’s in France with her family.”

“Do you miss your parents?”

“Fuck…” hisses Elio, facepalming, but there’s a smile on his face. “Now that you mention, yes, I do miss them. It’s not my fault I kinda forgot about them, I was a bit preoccupied.” He places a soft kiss on the underside of Oliver’s chin. "Are you gonna meet your friends?"

"No," Oliver sighs. "No, I canceled all my plans."

Elio sits up to look into Oliver's eyes. A pleased smile on his lips. "For me?"

Oliver kisses his nose that, he has noticed, is constantly red now that it's winter. "For you."

Elio grins, placing a smacking kiss on his lips. “Don’t try to distract me. Tell me if I was your first.”

Oliver lets out a hearty laugh. “Yes, it was my first time. With a  _ boy _ ,” says Oliver, nudging Elio.

“So I single-handedly turned you gay?”

“And you had to phrase it that way…”

“Come on, tell me!” Elio urges on, shaking Oliver comically and climbing onto his lap.

Oliver adjusts the blanket around them. “I’ve… done things with men before. Before I met Vanessa. When I was in school.”

A devilish smile appears on Elio’s face. “But never…”

“Never-”

“In the butt.”

Oliver throws his head back laughing. “Christ!”

“Wanna try again and see if you’re still into it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know if you're getting tired of the fluff


	25. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ♪ There's nothing sweeter than my baby  
> I'd never want once from the cherry tree  
> 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be  
> She give me toothaches just from kissin' me ♪

“Elio…” says Oliver, whiny, halfheartedly pushing against Elio’s belly who won’t stop kissing him.

Oliver sends a prayer to whichever god that always keeps their corridors empty because they are stood at the doorstep of Elio’s apartment while pressing kisses against each other’s mouth, promising each one to be their last and failing to part. Eyes closed and smiling. Content.

Elio hums against his lips, answering his call. “Elio…” says he between kisses, mocking Oliver.

“If you don’t-” kiss, “-let me go now,” and another, “you’ll have-” a lick, “-have to eat cold leftovers.”

“Oh no,” Elio teases him further.

“You need to shower. You stink,” Oliver plays along.

“Of your spunk.”

Oliver scrunches up his nose.

The noises that their wet lips make fill the hallway.

“Just one more minute…” Elio begs in a hushed voice.

Oliver gives in and wraps his arms around his tiny waist and lifts him up for a second. Elio lands on Oliver's feet to gain height, his arms around his neck, messing up his hair. But his hands soon travel down from there, sneakily lifting Oliver’s sweater and pushing his hand into his pants. He finds the slight bump of his ass and smirks. Tentatively and teasingly, as though looking for a reaction, he dips a lean finger into the fold of the cheeks in hopes to find an area that he hasn’t discovered much of in the last few days that they have spent together.

Oliver huffs out a laugh between kisses. “Hey…” he grumbles. “Watch where you’re going, kid.”

Elio lets out a long whine and pushes his hip against Oliver’s.

By the time they part, they are both rock hard, and Elio tries to lure Oliver in by explaining a very thorough plan of how he is going to take care of it. After a final kiss though, Oliver goes back to his apartment where on his phone he has seen seven missed calls from his parents. Oliver, the puppy, follows him to the kitchen, hoping for a treat.

 

Oliver is in no mood to talk to his parents. But he has been brought up this way. He worries. What if something happened? What if he continues to not talk to them and things get even worse? The last thing he needs now is more complications. So he dials their number.

No, nothing is wrong. They are both okay. Just wanted to wish him a Happy New Year. Wishing he was home.

“You kinda made me leave.”

“To be quite honest, you overreacted a little.”

“You think Vanessa overreacted as well?” Of course, not. Vanessa could do no wrong in his parents’ eyes. They worship her; which is why his mother fails to reply. “I need you to stop putting your two cents in every decision I make. I am an adult. Let me live my life the way I want.”

When a quiet second passes between them, Oliver almost thinks she has let it go for once. But he is wrong. When his mother talks next, there's a slight hint of humor in her tone. It makes him feel like an eight-year-old again, when things happening around him felt too big and crazy and his family treated him and his tribulations as though they were laughable and insignificant. His mother jumps on to offer him a prolonged lecture that he didn’t ask for. He almost hangs up, but he can’t. And the anger and frustration make his hands tremble and eyes water. “Stop… please, mom.”

“I will. But stopping me won’t change anything or make anything better.”

The next thing he knows, the phone is being softly taken away from him. He doesn’t know when Elio has gotten in, but there he was. His knight in shining armor.

Elio presses the phone to his own ear. “Hi, this is Elio. Oliver’s friend,” he says with the most polite European voice that he can muster. “Oliver isn’t feeling very well. Can you call again later?” He smiles and pauses to listen. He hangs up after saying, “yes, of course. Happy New Year!”

He puts the phone away and stands right in front of Oliver. He takes his hand first. He doesn’t address the tears that didn’t fall from his eyes but is evident all the same. Elio watches him for a while as though looking for signs while Oliver looks at the floor, the fridge, the table, their joined hands.

“Was it okay for me to do?” says Elio softly.

"Um-hum."

Moments pass as Oliver leans back on the kitchen isle, dangling their joined hands just a little.

“You can talk, okay?”

Oliver nods.

“Whenever you feel like it. You know, I’m not going anywhere.”

A simple admission. A promise to stick around. That makes Oliver look up at him. Elio nods, answering silently a question that wasn’t asked out loud. Assuring.

What Oliver does next feels like the most natural thing he could do. He pulls Elio by the front of his shirt and, wrapping his arms around his lithe waist, buries his face in his neck. Elio smells of his fruity soap and bliss and promises.


	26. Happy New Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't edit this chapter at all, sorry in advance.

Elio is in Oliver’s bed, naked, when his parents decide to Skype him. He slaps his own forehead in dismay before covering himself with the blanket, pulling it over his chest and shoulders. Thank god Oliver is already up.

He looks at the time on his phone over the picture of his mom. It’s past nine in the morning. He’s still tired. Last night has worn him out but, as in a flash he remembers about last night, he feels butterflies in his stomach and smiles mildly. They made dinner and ate together, drinking too much wine. And just before midnight, they went to the balcony, wrapping a blanket around them, shooing the puppy away, telling him to stay inside. They could only see the light from the fireworks, but that was enough, and they kissed as their skins took the color of red, green, blue and gold.

Oliver’s wife called and after he was done talking, they had made love in candlelight all night long. (The candles were Elio’s idea. He had seen scented candles in a gift shop and that had immediately reminded him of Oliver’s naked body.) The reminiscences of which is still in the room. The smell of candle overshadowing the smell of sex.

 

He receives the call and is immediately bombarded with all sorts of nicknames. He scrunches up his nose at “Elly-belly!” They have called to wish him a happy new year and to tell him how much he is missed.

“How are you, darling? Are you having a good day?” says his mother, Annella, who has been worrying ever since Elio left their house in distress. They knew something was wrong though Elio refused to give many details about it. All they knew was that it involved a man named Oliver. Elio’s parents are anything but nosey, which is something Elio is thankful for, but if Elio doesn’t talk, they _ will  _ nag him to. They are just looking out for their one and only son, and he understands that and adores them for it. So he smiles and digests the silly names.

“I’m fine, _maman_ ,” he smiles, thinks again. “I’m actually _great_ .”

“Oh my darling,” says Anella with delight.

 

It happens before Elio could stop it. He is still blushing, starting to tell his parents about the last eight days when Oliver, in only his sweatpants, whisk in hand, walks into the room saying, “do you want pancakes or waffles?”

When Elio doesn’t answer, staring at the half-naked Oliver and trying to come up with a plan of how he can avoid turning the camera of the phone and introducing his parents to his not-quite-boyfriend, Oliver raises his eyebrows and asks again. Elio blinks at him and stutters, “waffles.”

Oliver understands what is responsible for Elio’s shock when he hears a muffled snigger coming out of his phone.

Elio closes his eyes in surrender and sighs. “ _Maman_ , Papa, this is Oliver,” he says turning his phone. “Oliver, my parents.”

Oliver quickly recovers and smiles charmingly. But Elio notices him hesitantly crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Samuel and Anella don’t keep them long and say goodbye at least four times before actually hanging up saying, “Buh-bye, Elly-Belly.”

Oliver’s eyes light up. He smirks at Elio who is still in bed. “Elly-Belly, huh?”

“Oh God… please don’t.” Elio throws his head back, hiding his face with his hands.

“So, Elly-Belly wants waffles?” says Oliver, getting on the bed and kneeling between Elio’s legs.

Elio huffs, pretending to be irritated, and snatches the whisk from Oliver’s hand. He licks it clean, making sure Oliver has a clear view of his tongue sliding against the steel.

Oliver bends and kisses his tummy, maintaining eye contact. “What does Elly’s belly want?”

“Ugh, _stop,_ it’s lame.” Elio cages him with his legs.

The whisk is swiftly moved from Elio's lips and is replaced with the soft warm tongue, and then lips of the man hovering over him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the fluff while you can


	27. Affair

It happens again. Elio, as young and full of zeal that he is, shoves the phone in front of him even when his parents don’t ask to talk to Oliver. Oliver understands that Elio likes showing him off to the only people that he can, and he doesn’t mind for the most part because Samuel and Annella are the nicest people he has ever gotten to know. But there’s a part of him that makes his stomach ache with anxiety, a part of him that is scared.

When it happens for three weeks in a row, Oliver decides to say what has been bothering him. He himself is unsure of how to say it or what to say exactly. He strokes Elio’s hair, his neck, watching him eat and scroll on his phone at the same time.

“Um, Elio?”

Elio hums in answer, without taking his eyes off the screen.

“How much do your parents know?” he says tentatively.

“About?” He looks at him now.

Oliver just stares.

“I… I don’t know, I mean-”

“I just don’t want them to worry. I mean, how is it gonna look? Elio, you’re young. And they’ll… I mean if you had a son, would you let him be with a married guy?” he blurts out before he could think it through. He is still not sure if it was the whole of his worry.

Elio keeps shaking his head. “Oliver, stop, I haven’t told them anything. They don’t know. Even I don’t know where we stand, what would I tell _them_?” Just a hint of frustration and annoyance in his voice. He looks back at his phone so as not to make eye contact with Oliver. “You don’t want people to know about us, I get it. It’s not like my parents hang out with the same people you do. So you can relax. They’re not gonna tell anyone. They're not like that.”

 _That’s not it. You're misunderstanding this_ \- Oliver wants to say. But Elio is not wrong. Oliver only now realizes himself that he was worried about that as well. Elio has seen something in Oliver that he himself didn’t know existed. So he keeps quiet, takes Elio’s bowl when he is done and goes to the sink. “I just don’t want them to think that I’m…” he mumbles.

He doesn’t get an answer. Elio slowly walks out of the apartment.

 

Elio leaves for class before Oliver and Oliver doesn’t dare go to his apartment looking for him when he gets back from work. He can hear the muffled sound of multiple people singing in French coming from Elio's apartment. At least Elio is having a good time - he thinks.

He spends the time calling Vanessa, asking about her health. The doctor has recommended complete bed rest, so she has taken time off work. She is showing now and she and Oliver have already seen the ultrasound. Vanessa doesn’t want to know the sex of the baby and Oliver doesn’t know how he is feeling about all this.

With Vanessa’s belly getting rounder every week, the notion of a child being born somehow got more real and thinking about it makes Oliver dizzy. They don’t know yet how they are going to do it. While Vanessa is giving her hundred percent to salvage this relationship, Oliver is having an affair with his twenty-year-old neighbor. The dread keeps Oliver awake at night sometimes. And there is no one he can talk to. Not even to the shrink from their couple’s therapy.

For a while, Oliver was lost in the happiness that Elio brings along. But Vanessa's phone calls have been a constant reminder of the reality. So, even though theirs is a minor dispute, it affects Oliver more than it does Elio.

So in the end, it is Elio who is able to give in as he sneaks into Oliver's bedroom one night and snuggles up to him without saying anything.

Oliver holds Elio that night and finally realizes what has scared him more than Elio’s parents thinking that he is not good for Elio was that he may actually be good for their son. By introducing Oliver to his parents, Elio has given him a sign that he is okay with people knowing about them.  It has put a sense of domesticity to everything. They have been practically living together. This has escalated way too quickly for either of them to take notice of what was actually happening. And a part of Elio thinks this can be permanent or stable. And Oliver is not brave enough to tell him otherwise. He is not brave enough to end this so soon.


	28. In Some Sad Way I Already Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from Like Real People Do by Hozier

There’s a smell of emptiness in his apartment when he comes home late after work one day. As though it hasn’t been lived in for quite a while. It reminded him how he found Elio sleeping in his bed this morning and left for his morning jog after kissing his forehead. But when he came back from running, Elio wasn’t there. Oliver has his class schedule memorized and Elio’s classes don’t start this early. So he checked Elio’s apartment. Elio had left.  
The puppy walked to its tiny bed beside the sofa and sat there, as though waiting for Elio. How Oliver wished he could do the same. Wait for Elio to come back to him after a day of classes and practice.

Oliver is so used to finding Elio in his apartment every day after work that it comes as a shock when he finds it empty. He puts his bag away and goes to Elio’s apartment before even changing into cozier clothes.

Elio is curled up on his sofa with a blanket, sniffling, with the sound of a match coming from his tv, while the puppy Oliver chews on Elio’s sideburn. He looks up at Oliver and, sniffling, offers a tight smile.

“Coming down with a cold?” says Oliver.

“No… no.” Elio sits up, wrapping the blanket around him and bringing his knees up to his chest, making space for Oliver on the sofa. Resting his chin on his knees, he goes back to watching the football match as Oliver sits beside him. He stares at him.

Elio looks a little pale. The tip of his nose redder than usual, his eyes cloudy and his lashes wet and dark. His hair a mess of dark curls.

“Elio, are you okay?”

Elio looks at him, jerking a little as though he was too submerged into the game. “Yeah, yeah,” he answers too quickly, smiling, before continuing watching the game.

Oliver absentmindedly caresses Elio's hair. He didn’t even know he liked sports.

“What do you want for dinner?” says Oliver after a while.

“I… I kinda had dinner,” says Elio without removing his eyes from the screen.

“Kind of?” Oliver pretends he is not a little hurt. He looks forward to cooking for and having dinner with Elio. And now that Oliver can’t shake off the feeling of Elio pushing him away, it hurts even more.

“Yeah. Marzia took me to this new burger place,” he says softly, as though too tired to even talk.

When Oliver doesn’t answer for a while, Elio looks at him and smiles, tight-lipped. He crawls closer to him, and caressing his thigh, says, “But I might steal some salad from your plate.”

Oliver is confused. But he smiles. Up close, Oliver realizes, Elio doesn’t look sick. He has been crying. There’s a thin red line of dried liquid crusted on his nostrils.

Oliver sits facing him and takes his face in his broad hands, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs, touching his nose. Frowning, he scans his face. Elio looks down, he can’t keep eye contact. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing… nothing. Had a bit of nosebleed. Just tired.” He sniffles again.

“Oh god...” Oliver panics for a second before Elio brushes him off, freeing himself from Oliver’s hold.

“I'm fine. It’s alright.”

 

Oliver strokes Elio's hair for a while, scratches his head, asks again if he is sure he’s okay, before going back to his own apartment. Maybe Elio needs to be alone. Oliver doesn’t want to believe that Elio is tired of this, their relationship, because Elio may be young but he is unlike anyone he has ever come across.

He tries to figure out what else could have caused Elio to behave this way. The last and only time they had some sort of a serious argument was the thing about his parents. The morning after Elio had snuck into his bed, Oliver, after his jog, found him eating cereal in Oliver's kitchen. Oliver ruffled his hair before placing a kiss there and taking a sniff. "Done pouting?" he said into his hair. Turning red, Elio pushed him away and said, "shut up." That was it. They were okay again. And that was weeks ago.

Letting the puppy follow him to the bathroom, Oliver takes a hot shower, then makes dinner. He finds Elio sleeping on the sofa when he goes back to his apartment with his dinner. He shares his dinner with the puppy instead, lowering the volume of the tv and sitting on the floor near Elio’s feet.

Elio doesn’t wake even after Oliver is done doing the dishes, so he decides to put Elio in his bed and retire for the night. He kisses his feet, caressing his legs as he tucks the blanket before lifting him. Elio mumbles a little but doesn’t wake up properly when Oliver takes him in his arms, just sighs and holds onto Oliver’s bicep. He really must be tired, Oliver thinks. He doesn’t dwell on the fact that all the crying must have knocked him out.

He places him on his bed, wipes the blood off his nose with a wet tissue paper. Pulling the blankets over him, he kisses his forehead and whispers, "goodnight."  
Oliver takes the puppy to his own apartment so it won’t disturb Elio.

Elio needs the space, Oliver tells himself. The bed seems a little too big that night.


	29. Close Your Eyes And We'll Be Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally squeezed some time out to update. Forgive my typos and all, it's not edited at all.

The next morning Oliver leaves early because it’s time to take Vanessa to the hospital for her checkup again. But not before sticking a note to the lamp on Elio’s bedside table. 

 

_ Have to leave early today. Text me. _

__ \- Big O _ _

 

 

He leaves out the reason behind leaving early. The last thing he wants is accidentally reminding Elio of his wife. He has to take Vanessa to the hospital, then to the shrink. A sense of duty works in him and he tells himself that he doesn’t mind; making sure that the safety of the unborn child is as much his responsibility as it is Vanessa’s.  

 

“Busy?” Oliver says tentatively, declaring his presence in Elio’s bedroom. He looks forward to this, coming back home to Elio after a whole day spent at work, among colleagues and students - strangers. Exhausted, he loves coming back to his boy, in whose company he is his truest self. He just wishes he could get rid of what has been bothering Elio, make him happy and bubbly again.

Elio has spread his papers, books, laptop, and phone over his tiny bed, pouring overwork with his headphones on so as not to disturb the sleeping puppy on his pillow. Oliver says it loudly enough for him to hear it over the music playing on his phone. 

“Hey,” Elio says, smiling mildly and removing his headphones. “Glad you’re here. I’ve been - hmm -” says he, as Oliver leans down to kiss him and sits opposite him, “I’ve been meaning to give you something and keep forgetting.”

Oliver is mildly surprised. There is something that pulls Elio’s lips tighter when he smiles still, his eyes droopy, lacking their usual zeal when his gaze fell on Oliver. His voice lower, unlike his excited higher pitch. And his shoulders look like they have to bear the weight of the world. His eyes a little empty, his soul sucked out of any vivacity of youth. But he has something for Oliver - a gift. That means he has been thinking about him, and that makes Oliver feel something that he can’t quite place. Relief? Happiness? Or is it all too overwhelming? The word 'love' comes to mind. Perhaps?

Elio puts his laptop on the bed and goes to the bedside table. “It’s not much, so don’t get your hope high.” He hides whatever he gets out of the drawer quickly behind him, and, sucking his lower lip into his mouth, smiles at Oliver, almost sadly. “Close your eyes.”

Oliver obeys, and soon Elio is putting his arms around his neck. When Oliver starts to wrap his arms around his waist to bury his nose in the slight bump of his belly, thinking it to be a hug, Elio chuckles and bats his hands away. Then he feels it, the subtle weight of metal on his chest and around his neck. He opens his eyes.

It’s a chain with the star of David locket.

“This is the one my parents gave me. I want you to have it,” says Elio, sitting beside him, thumbing where the star rests on Oliver’s chest.

“Elio, I can’t- Your parents gave it to  _ you _ .”

“Yes, and it’s mine now. It’s mine to give away.” Elio leans in to kiss the star and slowly ascends from there to Oliver’s tanned neck.

_ To give away _ \- the words echo in Oliver’s mind as he closes his eyes and lets Elio kiss him wherever he wants because there was a silent request in what he has just said, a silent request that they both know cannot be fulfilled; a silent request and a cry of despair.

The pair of stars that they now share can't always share the same space.

 

When Oliver cups his face, Elio’s eyes are damp. Oliver kisses them, drinks the drops that are spilled onto his lips. Elio is calm. He doesn’t shake with effort. He doesn’t try to stop his tears. Now he lets Oliver kiss him wherever he pleases, lets him whisper ‘it’s okay’ softly against his skin over and over again, both knowing it's a futile endeavor. 

It’s only when he hears Oliver whisper something else against the hollow between the bridge of his nose and his eye that Elio lets out a sob.

“ Je t'aime… I love you, Elio, so much…”

“You can- you can never be mine- you- ” 

Oliver thumbs his tears away and softly hushes him, saying that it’s okay, it’ll be alright, knowing too well that it won’t be. They can keep pretending that it’s all okay until it’s not, but that won’t change the truth, and Elio has finally woken up from his boyish daydream. And Oliver will do anything to put Elio, and himself, back to sleep. So he keeps kissing him, until Elio’s sobs melt into moans, until he can no longer differentiate pleasure from despair.


	30. Leave Your Lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man chapter THIRTY...

Elio stares at the blond head bobbing over his hip. He was already dripping when Oliver peeled his boxers off and, without hesitation, he had taken him in his mouth.

Now he is on his side, drenched with sweat, cum, and saliva, begging Oliver not to stop his pounding from behind while his eyes leak.

Elio comes first. He is patient. Not oversensitive after coming. So he quietly lets Oliver trust into his sore entrance as he chases his climax, not quite minding the dull ache there.  

For a while, Elio doesn’t notice that Oliver is slowing down instead of speeding up. He frowns when he feels him pulling out, cock still hard, slowly; Oliver is always careful.

“What’s wrong?” Elio turns only his head. Snaking his hand behind him, he pulls Oliver’s hip to his. “Come, get in me.”

“I- Elio,” Oliver softly pushes his hand away, a little breathless.

Elio turns and sits up.

Oliver is getting dressed. Sitting on the bed, his feet are on the floor as he picks his clothes from the floor, as though ready to leave.

“What’s wrong?” Elio asks again.

When Oliver turns to look at him, Elio timidly covers himself with the blanket. He feels exposed and embarrassed.

Turning around, Oliver rests his elbows on his knees and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. He is disgusted. Suddenly he sees Elio as other people in his life might see him - not his equal, not his lover, and not in a world where age is just a number and where your mind’s exploration counts for experience. No. Elio is a kid. Perhaps the most brilliant person he has ever met, but a little naive. A kid who is seven years younger than him, who he is having an affair with, who his wife doesn’t know anything about. And he is a grown man who has failed at life, who is using this kid as an escape, making him bear the weight of this mess he calls his life, exploiting his innocence. It’s almost criminal.

Elio doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move an inch. He breathes slowly and so quietly that Oliver can’t hear it even in this silence.

Still facing away, Oliver starts, “Elio, I love you. Fuck, I’ve never loved anyone this way. But I don’t want you to feel pressured- I don’t want you to- look, if you want to walk away, if this is all too much, which I know it is… Elio, never hesitate.” Oliver’s voice shakes. “I won’t stop you. I won’t beg or make it hard for you. You always have an option. If you don’t want to-” Oliver doesn’t finish, not trusting his voice to carry on, not wanting to reveal too much and burden Elio.

Elio is quiet still and lets silence drag on. But when he speaks, his voice is heavy, just above whispering. “I want to. And that’s what scares me.”

He doesn’t have the right to ask him to leave his wife for him. They have been together for mere months. He doesn't know where they stand. He just knows that he wants to be with Oliver and somehow that doesn’t seem enough.

Oliver has an established relationship with his wife, and they are working on making it better. They have been working on make it better before Elio even came to New York. Elio feels like an outsider, just borrowing Oliver for a while, when his wife doesn't need him.

Closing his eyes, Elio rests his head against the headboard, feeling dizzy almost. He lets his mind wander off and finds it heading towards the blissful escape of slumber. He is exhausted.

Oliver thinks for a while. “Can I ask for something?”

Elio hums sleepily.

“Can you give me time? While I figure it out? And if it has to end, can we relish the last few moments? Love each other abundantly and grow sick of even the word? Forget about everything else but us? Make me yours and I’ll make you mine. Just for a while? Is it too much... too much to ask?”

It is. And it is going to hurt. And it is worth it. He has been offered escapism. He would live his whole life enslaved, be born and die among Trojans without knowing a world outside of the war, he would choose to be born as a butterfly and die within a week if that bought him three days spent with Oliver in the total bliss that ignorance brings.

Oliver feels thin arms wrap around his torso from behind as creeping plants wrap tall trees just so they can live. A pair of soft lips flutters against his shoulder, uttering a soft ‘anything’ that is audible to no one. 


	31. Utopia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was listening to Healah Dancing by Keaton Henson while writing. Might have affected it a bit...

Oliver finds Elio’s laptop, calls in sick. Elio misses classes and ignores Marzia’s death threats through text. 

They don’t shower that day. They coop up in the room, slipping in and out of sleep together. Oliver reading The Iliad while tracing patterns on Elio’s naked back. 

“Sex dungeon,” Elio calls it jokingly, laughing against Oliver’s shoulder, his lower lip clinging onto the sticky skin with all its might until the force of laughter separates them.

They lose track of how many times they make each other come. The room smelling of cum, sweat, the cinnamon candle that Elio lit for a while. Smelling of Oliver and Elio. 

Late into the day, Elio gets up to poke around in the fridge while Oliver fruitlessly looks for their phones so they can order in. But he can’t remember the last time he has seen his phone. They end up shoving dry bread and cheese into their mouths in a hurry and chasing one another into the bedroom again.

The puppy needs to be fed though and they only remember about him when, huffing into each other’s mouth, they hear a faint cry from the living room. Oliver takes pity.

“I love you,” Elio says when Oliver get back into the room.

Oliver grunts. “I love you,” says he, as he renters him, pushing into the already stretched entrance. 

At dawn, Oliver suddenly wakes up feeling filthy and makes to go to the bathroom. But in his struggle of realizing how bad he smelled, he has awakened his young lover, who now tugs him sleepily to get back into bed.

“Ten minutes,” he murmurs into Elio’s hair, softly loosening the grip around his wrist. 

Elio walks into the bathroom minutes later, rubbing his eyes, butt naked. Soon his back is pressed against the cold wall as the glass door gathers vapor and two men can be heard huffing rhythmically. 

They pass out in bed after in a heap of limbs, love, and passion.

 

The puppy is restless. Their company is not enough for the little one as it is for each other. It needs a walk. 

Elio pulls out his baggiest sweatpants and t-shirt and throws them at Oliver. He fishes out his wallet, takes their coats as Oliver puts the leash on the puppy, and they walk out for a walk and then breakfast at that quiet and mediocre cafe. Throwing worry out of the window, as they promised, Oliver kisses Elio’s snow-kissed red nose, pulls his hat down, almost covering his eyes. They walk in the white park before sitting on a bench, splitting a donut. They hold hands, laugh between kisses, lets air out of their mouths, watches it fog up and then vanish. 

“I love this, Oliver,” says Elio, his voice lazy, a mild, blissful smile on his mouth.

“Me too.” Oliver smiles and kisses his temple.

“Me more than you.”

 

There is no one else in the cafe, so after a “good morning”, a charming smile and Oliver’s ridiculously handsome face, they let the puppy into the cafe. Oliver the puppy, the good boy that he is, lies quietly on the seat with his head on Elio’s lap. He is calm after the walk. And Elio carries him up the stairs when they get back home, Oliver’s arm safely resting on his shoulder.

“...with you?”

Oliver hears it before he sees her. His hand drops from Elio’s shoulder.

Vanessa is waiting at his door with her phone pressed to her ear. When her gaze falls on Oliver and Elio, her brows furrow with astonishment. She bids goodbye to whoever she was talking to on the phone and waits till Oliver gets to the door. Feeling Oliver falter in his step, Elio slows his own pace and keeps looking between Oliver and the woman waiting at the door.

“Where’s your phone?” says she, shocked and a little angry. Talking with her arms spread beside her in frustration.

“I… I think it’s dead. What’s...”

“Oliver, I’ve been waiting for half an hour. We have to leave in ten minutes! Where  _ were _ you?”

“Just… Elio, this is Vanessa,” says Oliver, nudging at her elbow to turn her to face Elio. 

But he finds Elio staring at the subtle bump visible over her coat. Vanessa smiles politely, almost the same smile that he offers children when she sees them. It takes Elio a moment before he can tear his eyes off her belly and meet her eyes to offer a tight-lipped smile. 

“Hi,” he says. 

 

Vanessa urges Oliver to open the door and fetch his backpack. He had promised to spend the weekend at her parent’s place to celebrate her mother’s birthday. He had forgotten that it was this week, he barely knows what date it was. 

He lets Vanessa in first and turns to share one last glance with Elio as a way of saying goodbye. But Elio is already gone. The door already shut.


	32. Vanessa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus. It's the holiday season after all.

 

Vanessa knows that something is bothering Oliver. He is absent-minded throughout the whole visit. He talks very little and startles when someone addresses him. Always tapping his phone with his eyebrows furrowed. She catches him staring out of the window one night, cigarette between his fingers. She does ask if he is okay. Oliver is quiet for a while. Doesn’t turn to her. After a while, he mumbles with broken voice that he “can’t take this anymore.”

What _this_ is, Vanessa doesn’t know. But she lets it be when it becomes clear that Oliver has decided to stop at that.

When the weekend ends and they go back to their regular life, Oliver declares that he wants to stop seeing the therapist. It carries the silent message that he doesn’t want to work on their relationship anymore. Either that or Oliver thinks they are good on their own now - Vanessa thinks. She tells him that she can go to the doctor alone from now on for her routine appointments.

 

In the middle of the night, Oliver often goes out to the corridor, presses his ear to the door opposite his. Strains to hear small squeaky barks. But nothing. Dead silence.  
He pushes against the door weakly, tries to unlock it. His keys are locked inside. The door has been locked for weeks now. He found it that way when he returned to the city. The tears that roll down his cheeks are also silent.

 

He doesn’t try texting anymore. His Instagram account 'cannot be found'. He tries calling sometimes though. “The number you dialed no longer exists,” says the robotic voice. Goofy smile stares back at him from the phone. He had cropped out his face from the selfie and set the beautiful one's face as contact picture.

 

Scrolling through every app, he ends up in Skype. But he doesn’t have his Skype. They never needed Skype. He could always knock at his door instead. Not anymore.

But something catches his eyes and he stops before exiting the app.

The name Perlman. Anella Perlman. Saved from when Elio’s phone had died and he had used Oliver’s to Skype with his mother.

Oliver hesitates.

If Elio hates him and doesn’t want him to contact him, then his parents must hate him too. They would want to protect their son from the older married man. For all they know, he could be a predator.

 

One, three, four months pass. Vanessa goes into labor.


	33. Somewhere in Northern Italy

 

_**Summer of 2019** _

_**Somewhere in Northern Italy** _

 

Elio hates doing it. He doesn’t mind moving to the smaller room every year to vacate his own bedroom for the guest, but this year… 

“I’m too old for this,” he murmurs under his breath. Why should he be the one sacrificing his comfort? The guest could just as easily stay in the guest house just outside the villa. But his parents want them to be in the house. It would be good for him, they said. It’s part of the experience, spending time with the family. And Elio has never put up a fight and he just doesn’t have to energy to start now. It has just never occurred to him before this year because he has been doing this since the freaking beginning of time.

 

“Are you gonna move  _ all _ your clothes into the other room?” says Marzia in French through the phone.

Elio sighs as he carries a bundle of his shorts and polos to the other room. “No, just the ones I wear too often.”

“You could just come to France and stay with me for the rest of the summer. That room looks really small through Skype.”

“That’s cause it actually is small.” He fusses. “And full of rubbish.”

“Elio, can you stand still for a second?”

“No. I need to move so I can shut the doors and not have to meet and greet the new guy. I’m in no mood.”

“Where is this one from?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Someone is coming to stay in your bedroom and you don’t care to know anything about him?”

“Marzia, don’t say it like that. It sounds weird.”

 

To be honest, he couldn’t care less about who was coming. Usually, he was. He was always included in the talk where his parents would go through the applications that were sent. They would ask for his opinion. This time he wasn’t present at the meeting as he spent the holidays in the States. And when he returned, he wasn’t the same Elio that had left Italy. 

His parents walk on eggshells around him now, let alone talk about the stranger that is going to come to stay with them for six weeks, and it gets on his nerves. He ignores family gatherings as much as he can, talks little, even when his father approached him asking if he wanted to talk. He doesn’t want to talk. Talking never helped. All he knows is he wants to get over this and he knows he will. But that doesn’t stop him from crying to sleep every night. Or waking up with a pang of burning pain in his chest each morning. 

Truth be told, he misses him still. Sometimes too much to bear.

But it’s better this way. And he will get over this as he has gotten over his past lovers.

 

Then he hears the car coming.

“The usurper,” he says.

Marzia laughs as he takes the phone to the window overlooking their tree-lined driveway. He turns the camera so Marzia can see too. He watches his parents come out of the villa to welcome their six-week guest.

 

The blond hair catches the sun shimmering through the trees before he even comes out of the car. The flash catches Elio’s eyes. That is the first thing he sees. He knows the light.

The usurper looks up straight at him with a knowing gaze before even greeting his parents, as though he knows where everything or everyone is. 

Elio steps back into the room.


	34. Between Always and Never

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter...

He had asked for time. But they ran out of time even before he had asked, which neither were aware of. In this way, Elio was saving everyone involved from more pain.   
He promised he would not beg should Elio decide to walk away. But how can one let the light of his life walk out like that? Light of the world. His homecoming.

“Elio?” Oliver calls tentatively from the doorway. The little Oliver in his arms, who he has met at the main gate of the house, wiggling its tail for a friend it hasn’t seen in months.

Oliver waits for Elio to respond but he doesn’t move, doesn’t turn from the windowsill. His fingers twitch. Oliver watches as Elio slowly shakes his head from side to side.

Then he speaks. His voice so low and soft, Oliver thinks he imagines it. “Please, leave.”

They are both quiet for a while as Anchise comes up to put Oliver’s bags in the other room. Oliver lets the little one down and it walks to Elio to sit on his feet; it hasn’t forgotten its cute little habit.

“Won’t you give me a chance to explain?”

“No.” Elio’s voice is strong when he speaks next, but still forcefully calm. “No. There is nothing for you to explain. What’s done is done. I can’t make you leave the house. But I don’t want you in my room. I should be granted at least that.”

Oliver is dumbstruck. “... You’ve ... changed.” The Elio he knew was not strong this way. It’s as though he has grown up in this brief period of time. And the fact makes Oliver love him even more. He has seen this person change and grow into a more beautiful person - nothing can be grander than that.

“How could I not?”

This hurts Oliver, and he takes a few steps ahead. “If we could just talk for-”

“No, we can’t talk. I don’t wanna talk. Just leave the room.” His voice on the verge of breaking.

Oliver slowly walks to him and touches his arms from behind. He feels Elio leaning into the touch a little, his head hung. So he wraps his hands around his lithe figure softly. “Elio, Elio, Elio,” he murmurs, kissing his hair. “I-”

The next second Elio is arching his back and shoving Oliver away.

Oliver sees his angelic face for the first time in months then, but it is wet with tears and scrunched up with the force of suppressed sobs. 

Oliver is shocked and his eyes immediately start to water seeing this wreckage before him. Elio has lost weight. His hair has grown, the curls framing his slight face. The dark circles around his eyes prominent against his pale skin that hasn’t seen the sun in probably weeks. His body frail. “Elio…” he whispers and finds his feet carrying him to the boy.

Elio, crying, pushes him away again when he comes to hold him. Fighting the tantrum of the frail boy, Oliver goes again and holds him even though he keeps trying to push him away - screaming with effort, frantically hitting his chest, arms, head. Oliver shushes him whispering, “it’s okay, it’s okay," until, minutes later,  Elio finally yields, his energy and determination fading against the warmth that Oliver offers. “We’ve found the stars… and it is given once only,” Oliver murmurs.

Elio buries his face in his shirt and after a while fists a handful of his billowy blue shirt. “But you’re mine,” Elio says through sobs and gritted teeth. 

Oliver is hit with the realization once again that how young Elio is, that he wasn’t supposed to be dating someone who is married, who had a pregnant wife, and who is a father now. He realizes how hard it was for him in the first place to have shared him with Vanessa and now a child, which would become his priority, as it always does - and Elio just couldn’t picture it. And above all that, the guilt that he might be the reason Oliver couldn’t commit to his family. Elio might be mature for his age but it is still too much for him. 

“I am,” Oliver murmurs.


	35. Our Spot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive my Google translate Italian.

“Così prezioso ... così bello ... quando dormi… amore mio”

“Hmmm...?” Oliver's eyes are still closed, still on the realm between slumber and consciousness, slowly waking up to Elio’s murmurs and soft pecks on his lips, his cheeks, eyes, neck, chest.

He fights the drowsiness and opens his eyes to his boy smiling, tiny tip of his red tongue between his teeth - amused to see him waking up.

“Buongiorno, mio caro,” he murmurs in reply, mocking his American partner who now finds it easy to slip in and out of sleep in the tranquil Italian countryside. 

They are in Elio’s spot now. Elio was right - it is so much more beautiful in the summer. The spring has the clearest water he has ever seen, instead of being frozen as he saw while Skyping with Elio. The long grass brushes their exposed skin as they lie on the ground.  It has also become Oliver’s favorite place to be with Elio, talk, relax, make out, and doze off hearing Elio’s tiny whispered ‘old man’. It’s more  _ their _ place now than just Elio’s. ‘This is where I dreamed of you before you came into my life,’ Elio had said the first time he brought him here. Yes, it was their place.

 

“I thought we were keeping our hands off each other,” says Oliver, drowsily, catching Elio’s hand that lazily caresses his chest. “So as to enjoy each other even more when we get home.”

“-to enjoy each other even more when we get home,” they say together, Elio in a mocking tone. “As if that’s possible.”

“It was your idea.”

Elio hums, putting a piece of peach into his mouth before burying his head into the crook of Oliver’s neck, making Oliver sigh. He can’t remember the last time he was this relaxed. 

This morning they decided to picnic here, promising to not even touch each other until late in the afternoon, at the villa, after lunch, when everyone went to take rest. Then they would ravish each other like lovers reunited after a war.  
But the plan has already failed. They make love now at every chance they get, on any and all surface.   
In a way, they _are_ lovers reunited after a war.

 

After a long debate with himself, Oliver had contacted Elio’s parents. To his surprise, they were not mad. They were calm, patient with him. Offered him the summer vacancy. Gave him time. Advised him to be with his almost ex-wife while giving birth. Almost ex-wife.  


‘I've signed the divorce paper’ - this was what calmed Elio down.   


He was huffing with the effort to slow his heartbeat, cheeks still tear-streaked, eyes bewildered. ‘What?’  


Oliver nodded, cupped his jaw. ‘For you.’  


‘Me?’  


‘Alway you, Elio.’

 

_ ~ _

 

“When do you have to leave?” Elio murmurs against the skin of Oliver’s neck.

Oliver smiles, nudges his curls with his chin. “I have four more days.”

Elio makes a disheartening sound. “You know why I keep asking again and again, don’t you?”

“You hope the answer will change.”

“So why don’t you change it?”

Oliver looks at Elio and sighs. Elio is crying. Not sad tears, but pouty tears. Oliver much prefers this than the flood of tears he welcomed him with. “I can’t Elio. I know myself. If I delay once, I’ll never find the strength to leave. And V-”

“Vanessa needs you,” Elio smiles, tight-lipped. He is not bitter, far from it. Being as young as he is, he is just still learning to accept that his Oliver has duties. “I know. And the baby. You should be around him. A lot ... as he grows up,” he says, smiling, as a tear rolls down his temple. 

Oliver kisses and collects the tear that has gathered in the corner of Elio's eye into his mouth. “I wish you could come with me.”

 

But he couldn’t. He has transferred into a university in Milan soon after he moved with the intention of never going to back to the States. But that has changed since then. He has lost enough time hopping here from there as it is. So he made up his mind to at least complete one semester before he can transfer again if that is possible. Oliver, being a professor himself, absolutely supports that. ‘The door to my apartment will be waiting for you, no matter how long it takes,’ he said.

Being as understanding and smart as she is, Vanessa has taken it well. Oliver told her before the baby was born. He had no one else. Vanessa wasn’t surprised - neither by the fact that he was having an affair nor that he was having an affair with a man. Oliver wanted to be with her when the baby would be born, and Vanessa let him. They broke up on more than friendly terms. Now that the tie of marriage wasn’t pulling them to be in the boundary, they found that they were better friends than spouses.

 

“It is weird that I kind of want to see the baby?” says Elio, crinkling his nose.

Oliver smiles. “It’s not weird at all.”

“He’s part you, so of course not…” he smile but the tears still come.

Oliver softly rubs them away.  “How do you say... how do you say 'hold me'? In Italian?"

"Reggimi," Elio whispers.

“How do you say ‘kiss me’?”

“Baciami,” and he places a soft kiss on his lips

“How do you say ‘I love you’?

Elio pushes him playfully. “You know how to say that.”

Oliver pulls him closer and, touching their foreheads together, closes his eyes. “I do,” he whispers. A promise.

“I do.” Elio repeats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never in a million years thought I would love writing fluff this much but here I am. And I am really sad that this is over.   
> Thank you, ALL OF YOU <3 <3 <3, for reading, leaving kudos and comments on this piece of crap. Life becomes too much to handle sometimes and believe me when I say that fandoms save lives.  
> This fic started cause I was going through a rough patch and I was getting better but I'm in a worse state than ever before right now. So I'm sorry for Google translate and if I left plotholes or didn't explain something. I will possibly soon start posting (just to be sane) the CMBYN or Charmie fanfic that I've been working on.  
> But I can't thank you all enough for finding this shitty fic worthy of your time. THANK YOU <3


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